


Heavy Dirty Soul

by nishiki



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Pining, Post-Akrham Oswald, Rating May Change, Tetch Jim Gordon, Tetch Virus, Warnings May Change, cured Oswald, gobblepot, infected Jim Gordon, nicewald, other characters might be added, sane Oswald Cobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-18 20:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15494532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: The virus had opened his eyes and for the first time in years, he saw the world as it truly was. From the second he had crawled out of that shallow grave in the middle of nowhere and was reborn again, he had known a truth about himself that he would have never dared to accept otherwise. Because it was Oswald. It had always been Oswald.





	1. Prolog

It had been a bargain as Lee Thompkins had decided to force her ex-fiance to inject himself with the Tetch virus. Jim, stubborn old Jim, would have refused to do so and rather die than making himself a monster had it not been for the whole city being in danger at the same time. She knew this, of course. In the end, the city and the people he had sworn to protect would be more important than even his own sanity.

Jim had always been a man with a hero complex who threw himself in any given danger head first without a care in the world for his own life and Lee had been too late, maybe even too naive to fully understand what this truly meant. For her. For them.

There had been a time when she had been certain that Jim would come to his senses and settle down with her. There had been a time when she had been honestly convinced that Jim would settle for some boring desk job so that he would be out of danger for their little family in the suburbs far away from all the madness and crime that was always rampant in Gotham City. There had been a time when she had feared the darkness inside of him, the monster coiling inside of Jim’s guts like a snake and when this monster had finally left her no choice but to leave Gotham for good.

The moment she had knocked Jim out and put him in that shallow grave with the virus as his only means of escape, she had been certain that, would he inject himself and embrace the monster that he truly was, Jim would come to her again. She had been convinced that they were meant to be together, that his darkness and hers matched and that he would be drawn to her like a moth to a distant moon as the same was true for her. It had taken Mario’s death and the infection with the Tetch virus to open her eyes to that fundamental truth. One could not be without the other.

That was what she had honestly believed.

Maybe she should have been wiser. Maybe she had been naive about all of that once more. Because, in the end, Jim had not come to her. He had not been drawn to her. Jim was the sun that shone above Gotham. He was a part of this city, a part of her heart, one side of the coin and he had been drawn to his counterpart instead. He had been drawn to the moon that would illuminate the city at night and watch over the criminals gathering like rats in these narrow streets which were like winding serpentine veins. He had been drawn to the other part of this city, to his twin soul, the other side of that coin that was flipped every day deciding about whether or not the city would fall into madness.

Maybe she should have known.

It was Cobblepot Jim had run to instead. It had always been Cobblepot. And no matter what she would try or say or do, it would always be Cobblepot.

 

**-End of Chapter 1-**


	2. Chapter 2

Breaking through the wood of the cheap plywood coffin was easy.

It was a strange sensation. The virus was rushing through his veins like a living being, like a swarm of ants crawling underneath his skin. It was pounding in his head, singing and ringing and shouting in his ears like a new found and awfully captivating melody. There was no pain, even as he broke the skin on his knuckles on the wood or when he managed to crawl out of his own grave. The cold air was burning and pinching and stabbing in his lungs as he drew in the air around him like a man drowning at sea. A few moments later and he would have been dead.

As he scrambled out of the dirt and dragged his body across dead leaves and pointy branches, the voices in his head grew louder, a choir of ghosts from his past, reminding him of who he truly was deep inside. A monster. A murderer. Only for a minute or two he allowed himself to fall flat on his back and stare up into a clouded grey sky that promised of snow and with that snow a cleansing to come. It wasn't as if he had not known the truth before. Those voices in his head were not new, only louder now, amplified by the virus in his system.

He had always known that he was a killer. He had always been acutely aware of that darkness inside of him that had infected him early on in his life, maybe even long before he had joined the military. And always, from the first moment he had felt the darkness growing inside of him, he had known that there was no way back from it would he ever fall for it completely. It had been there lingering at the edges of his field of vision as he had been lying in the trenches surrounded by his enemies and never left him since.

It was Lee Thompkins who should have kept him for trailing off the right path, who should have prevented him from getting lost in the woods of his own mind. It was Lee to whom he had looked for guidance and who had held the promise of walking in the light with him forever. With her at his side, her hand in his, her laughter in his ears and her smile to brighten a cloudy day, he had been supposed to be happy, good, and righteous. Maybe even the last good man of this city, as a small man in a black suit with tousled inky black hair had once told him in a dirty cold street in one of Gotham's darkest nights. Now, this night seemed a lifetime ago and the man he had been back then was long gone.

Gotham, this city, had chipped away at this man, the soldier, with each passing day and each new drama until there had been nothing left but a hollow empty shell. Before Lee, there had been Barbare who had been that promise of normalcy to him. He should have seen right away that they could never work out and, more importantly, that they weren’t good for each other, that their relationship was toxic from the start and that Barbara had been just as desperate to play a role as he had been. Just as he, Barbara seemed to have hoped that, if she would just play along for long enough, this darkness inside of her, this insanity growing like a festering abscess would die off and make the lie become the truth.

What happened to her had been inevitable and this Barbara Kean, who was now the head of the City Sirens, was the real thing. He had just not been able to see it and she all too eager to hide it.

Then there had been Barnes. A man he had looked up to for guidance. A man who had promised what he had always wanted from the start too. Together they had been supposed to clean up this city once and for all and destroy the last remains of the virus seeping through the veins of Gotham that was making her sick and destroying her from the inside out. Yet, Barnes had decided to go against Jim too, as he had been rooted too deeply in his unwavering beliefs, not able to bend the rules even a slight bit. And in the end what had become of him? The virus had exposed his true face too.

The moment he had sent Lee away as he had found himself behind bars, he had known that it was forever even before he had seen her with Mario Falcone, even before he had known that she was engaged to that man. The last time he had seen her before Blackgate, before she had lost their child, he had known that he would not see her again and that Lee Thompkins would be much better off without him anyway. The death of their unborn child was the death of their love too. There was no going back from that. Death could not be cheated. Until the moment he had crawled out of that grave, Lee had put him in hours ago, just a few minutes prior to him slowly getting back to his unsteady feet, he had been certain that he was regretting sending her away and that all he wanted was to get her back.

Maybe a part of him had even thought that this was how it was meant to be. That, when all of this was over, Lee and him would drive off into the sunset together and never return to this wretched city. Before he had woken up in that grave, he had been certain that all he needed in his life was to get Lee back, get her to love him again and have the family he had always wanted and meant to have.

If Lee would just take him back, if Lee would smile at him again, if Lee would love him again, he would be allowed into the light again too. He would be righteous and good again. He could be a hero again. Maybe the last one this city would ever have.

However, in the end, it was just like Lee had said through the crinkling radio as he had been lying in that coffin awaiting death. The virus had opened his eyes as it had hers before. He was filled with a certain level of clarity that had been unknown to him up until this point. Before, it seemed, the world had been blurry, the path shrouded in darkness, the sensations all around him too captivating, too loud, too blinding, too much.

No wonder he had lost focus again and again. No wonder he had fallen for women like Barbara Kean, Valerie Vale, and Lee Thompkins. Now, however, as he started staggering away from the gravesite, the path before him was clear as if illuminated with an ethereal glowing blue light. And this light would lead him directly to where he needed to go.

Finding the bomb that was supposed to plunge Gotham forever into madness and chaos and shake the very foundation to the core to ruin the gothic city forever, had been easy, in the end. The GCPD came too late still. The bomb went off and the virus was spread and there was nothing that could be done except evacuating the area. At least this way, thousands of helpless Gothamites were saved from the fallout of the bomb. And yet all that did was leading to chaos and panic.

It was even worse than Jerome Valeska’s night of madness. It almost seemed as if, with every event this city overcame, the next one would only be more tragic and demand more lives to pay the price for Gotham’s discontent. And although it had been in his interest to help and find a cure for the virus, though he helped Harvey to find where Strange had disappeared to with the antidote, his thoughts had not been focused on the task at hand, for there had been something more important, something more pressing than this, something that he had not dared to put into words right away.

He had not meant to kill Fish Mooney as they had found her and Strange. It all happened too fast. The attack of those ninjas, the fight in the semi-darkness of that warehouse, Fish Mooney and her entourage. Still, as she fell to the ground, he felt no regret for a life lost - not even for the antidote shattering on the ground. The truth was, at the moment as it happened, he had not even cared about finding an antidote at all or for being healed from the virus for that matter. Sure, they got Strange in custody and because they did, the GCPD would be able to concoct a new antidote with what was left from the original and the blood of Jervis Tetch.

It would take time though and while Harvey was talking and talking and talking about how they would be able to heal him in no time with the first vial their team would be able to create, Jim Gordon couldn't care less about it. No one knew how long it would take the team or the GCPD to distribute the new antidote to the public. All Jim thought about was that there was still enough time to catch a train with Lee and get out of the city. That there was time enough to burn all bridges in Gotham, to find her, embrace his darkness once and for all and start over with her somewhere else. And yet, there was a whole other thought at the forefront of his mind too. There was still enough time to find Oswald Cobblepot. It was either one or the other. Lee or Oswald. Not both. It was as simple as that.

Because it was as Lee had said. The virus had opened his eyes and for the first time in years, he saw the world as it truly was. From the second he had crawled out of that shallow grave in the middle of nowhere and was reborn again, he had known a truth about himself that he would have never dared to accept otherwise. He felt nothing for Lee Thompkins anymore and he wasn’t even sure if he ever had.

Not even resentment was left in his heart for her for infecting him with that virus, or anger for putting him in that grave and putting the entire city at risk too. Nothing. If anything, he felt as if he had to thank her for making him go through all of this, otherwise, he might never have been able to see the truth and forever kept wearing a mask that just wouldn't fit right.

Because above all else, those voices inside his head were telling him to do one thing that was even more important than saving Gotham from the virus. Find Oswald. That was it. That was what was surging through his mind from the moment the needle had pricked his skin and the virus shot through his bloodstream. Because it was Oswald. It had always been Oswald.

From the moment he had first met Oswald in that god-forsaken alleyway behind Fish Mooney’s club with a baseball bat in his slender hands and a whimpering, bloodied man at his feet, it had been Oswald. Despite how happy he had thought to be with Barbara at the time, it had been Oswald. He was not the promise of walking in the light as Lee once had been but the promise of someone who accepted his darkness, embraced it even, accepted him for who he truly was deep inside, the good and the bad.

Lee had seen his darkness and shied away from it, she had wanted the light and only as she had gotten the virus had she been able to accept this dark side of him too. Had she before only wanted the good side of him, now she wanted the opposite entirely. Oswald, however, had always accepted him as he was, the good and the bad. Oswald was the moon, shining bright above Gotham and taking the criminal scum of this city into his warm embrace and until this day, he had been certain to be the sun, the only last remaining good guy, maybe a hero even, the last bastion of truth and righteousness. If anyone would accept him the way he was now, it was Oswald.

It had always been Oswald.

And it were these thoughts that made Jim turn his back to Harvey and walk straight out of the precinct as the early hours of the evening had already taken the city in a cold embrace with freshly falling snow and as chaos was ruling these streets with a new found vigor that had never been met before.

»Jim!« He should have expected Harvey to run after him. He _had_ expected Harvey to run after him. His friend, his partner, his captain had much on his plate, yet he was worried sick for his infected friends while out in the streets infected were shot if they wouldn't comply. »And where do you think you’re going?«

Harvey Bullock might not always be the most agile man working for the Gotham City police force, still, his hand was upon Jim’s shoulder in an instant as the younger of the two men had just walked down the stairs leading up to the front entry.

»Don't tell me you are going to find Lee now!« Harvey groaned as Jim stopped and turned around. »Jeez, Brother, I understand you! But we need you here now! Lee is coming back to her senses soon and then she’ll be back. You’ll see, when she gets it and takes the antidote, she’ll hold you in even higher regard if you will not have blindly followed her! We need to take a hold of Tetch now, Jim!«

»I'm not going after Lee, Harv.« Jim shot back a little more agitated than strictly necessary. Yet, he had wasted so much time already with all this fucking police work. He had missed so many opportunities of being happy - truly happy - of going after what he truly wanted and that just because of Harvey, just because he was a cop and Oswald a criminal. Harvey would not let him leave until he would have gotten a proper answer and Jim would not again have his time wasted and lose another opportunity because of his partner who was so quick to jump to judgment despite the fact that he, unlike Jim, had actually killed his own Cobblepot back in the day and done many things wrong in his life ever since.

»Oh, come on, Jim, I know that look!«

»I am going to search for Oswald.« He was met with silence for just a moment and that agitated him even more because it meant he would waste more time again just standing around and arguing with his best friend. Then again, what best friend would keep his friend from being with the person he needed the most in his life, the person he loved.

Love was a strong word, perhaps, but he had never been shy about his emotions in that regard. He tended to get involved too quickly. If anything, he tended to say those magic words too fast in a relationship and maybe that was why they had never worked out. Or maybe because there had always been someone else in the back of his mind when saying them. They had never meant anything. He had never loved Lee. He had loved the fantasy of Lee and a normal life in the suburbs. He had never loved Barbara. He had loved the fantasy of Barbara and the life and influence she could give him.

»What?« Harvey finally snapped. »Now? Now, of all times, you want to go looking for the Penguin? Why in the world would you do that? We haven't heard of that freak for weeks and now when the whole city is going to shit you wanna go and look for him? Jim, I really hate to play the _Captain-Bullock-card_ here but we can't afford our best cop being out there on the hunt for some creepy criminal who would do us all a huge favor if we would someday just find him dead in some ditch at last!«

Under different circumstances, those words would not have been enough to make him snap but now it was the virus that was in control and made him quicker to anger than usual. Before he knew what he was doing, he had attacked his best friend and smashed his fist into his face. The punch took Bullock by surprise and made him stumble as blood was gushing out from his nose at once.

»You are not going to hold me back again, Harvey.« He growled. »Don't you dare follow me now.«

»Jim!« Harvey sounded almost desperate now as he howled his name like a beaten dog. »That's just the virus talking, please come back inside, we’ll find a solution! You’ll see, the antidote is almost finished and then you’ll think straight again!«

»That's not the virus, Harv! That's me!« Jim hissed. »But it took the virus for me to finally see clearly what really matters!«

»And that's Cobblepot?«

»It's always been him!«

It was impossible to say if Harvey caught the true meaning of those words. However, the way his jaw slackened as he pressed a hand to his bleeding nose, the way his eyes noticeable softened in what could only be described as capitulation, allowed Jim to hope that he had understood and would not force him to actually articulate it.  

»If you really go now, Jim … I can't promise you to have your back any longer. You're on your own.« His voice was resigned but there was a threat to those words too. Out there, the police were hunting the infected. Out there, he would be on his own.

»Wouldn't be the first time.«

※※※※※※※

Navigating through the pandemonium that was Gotham City in this night was almost impossible for normal people, let alone for someone as well-known as Detective James Gordon of the GCPD. He had to punch out quite a few teeth on his way through town as other infected tried to attack him. Not that he would mind punching out the teeth of those who wanted to attack him for revenge. However, it slowed him down drastically.

Not that he knew where to go and look for Oswald anyway.

Last time he had seen Oswald, he had been begging him to free him from Arkham, claiming that he was being tortured in this hellish place. He was out for quite some time now but ever since Oswald had left Arkham as a free and apparently sane individual, he had not heard from him or seen him. Until now, he had not wasted a thought on that fact. He had been certain that Oswald had just not wanted any contact to him or to get involved with anyone from his old life again after he had finally gotten the help he had needed.

A few months ago, he remembered how Edward Nygma had come to him and told him about Oswald's return to the city and how much he had changed. But since then, Edward had tried to bust his ass and blame him for murders that he had committed out of fear that Jim might find out about Kristen Kringle. Ed was in Arkham now and with that out of the way in all this chaos.

No one seemed to know where Oswald was ever since. At least the ghosts of Oswald's past seemed to have no idea. There was no clue, no idea where he could start looking for the former kingpin of Gotham. His feet carried him through Gotham as if his body knew where to go exactly. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the virus drawing him to Oswald, wherever he was.

Whatever it was, it was pulling him through the city and farther and farther away from the train station where Lee was waiting for him - hoping that he would come to her, leave Gotham and start a new life together like this. He did not even dare to imagine what kind of life that was she wanted to lead with him. The truth was that it would not be the same life that she had wanted to live with him only months ago. Truly, she was not dreaming of having children in the suburbs with him anymore, of getting married and lead a peaceful quiet life. But what was her goal? Was it even of any importance? Not for him, it wasn't.

It was pure coincidence that he came across Butch Gilzean of all people. It were people like Butch, rookish brutes, that came out in the darkest hours of the night to play and even more so now on a day like this when there was no retribution to fear. Jim found him in a busy street as he was instructing two of his men to load items they had stolen from a high-fi store into the back of a van. The policeman inside of him wanted to intervene and arrest them all, just like all the other rioters and looters in this street, but there was an even stronger desire inside of him that wanted to get answers from Butch.

»Butch!« As the large man whirled around, there was a moment where surprise and even a hint of stress flickered over his face before he suddenly seemed to calm again.

»Gordon!« He replied with a grin spreading over his face. »Come to join the fun?«

He jumped Butch before there was even the possibility of a second thought crossing his mind. Of course, his goons, that were still busy loading their loot into the back of the van, wanted to come to their boss’ aide but Butch immediately waved them off as Jim pressed him to the nearest wall.

»Where is he?« He snarled, their faces mere inches apart, so close that he could smell the whiskey on Butch’s breath.

»Who?«

»Oswald! Where is he?«

»How would I know?« Surprise gave way to confusion and allowed it to settle on Butch’s face.

»Don't tell me he didn't try to get back in contact with his old crew after his release!«

»Last time I saw him was a few months ago, right after his release from the looney bin!« Butch replied. »I swear I don't have a clue where he is or what he’s doing these days. He didn't seem like he wanted to go back to his usual business.«

»I saw Cobblepot.« One of his goons suddenly chimed in and Jim finally let go of the lapels of Butch’s coat.

»You what?« Butch spat.

»Yeah … I wanted to tell you, Boss. I saw him about three weeks ago near the Narrows begging for money. I almost didn't even recognize him.« As Jim now fully directed his attention to the nameless thug, he saw him shrink back just a bit. And even before Jim could start asking further questions, he quickly went on. »Hey, look, Dude … Maybe Gabe can help you.«

»Gabe?« That brute, one of Oswald's former bodyguards, as his mind helpfully supplied. He remembered the big guy having been locked up in the arrest cells with Oswald once.

»Yeah, Gabe.« The man shrugged. »Gabriel Visconti. He’s a teddy. I’m sure if he’s seen Oswald, he might have helped him out a bit once or twice.«

»Where can I find him?«

The man exchanged a glance with Butch and his other colleague and then a small chuckle almost as if they were all sharing some grand joke that Jim could just not get behind. »Well, at his mom’s restaurant, of course. Market Street.«

Jim did not waste another second to turn away from the group and walk down the street. Apparently, even Butch was surprised by that. »Hey … Aren't you going to arrest us?«

»Not my business.« Jim shot back without even turning around again as he marched off. A part of him, that same part that was still clinging to a glimmer of light, was shocked by his own words. But, in the end, it was as Harvey had once told him. He was working for the murder squad. This was not his business to settle.

Naturally, Gabe too was surprised to see him later, as he walked into the restaurant of his mother. The theater district where the restaurant was located was largely unaffected by the chaos in the rest of the city. Still, there was a tenseness in the lines of the faces of the patrons present at the scene as Jim entered the Italian restaurant. Heavy red draperies and velvet chair cushions, a dark wood paneling all over the wall and numerous family photographs all strewn across the walls underlined the heritage of Gabe’s family. A proud heritage without any question. The tables were set with a rather standard assortment of nicely folded napkins, white plates, glasses that could do with being replaced soon, and white candles stuck in a candle holder decorated only by molten wax all around it.

There were no new customers tonight, only grim faces that had grown familiar to Jim over the course of the last couple of years in this city. Every single one of the men lurking around in the shadows of the establishment, was ready to pull out a switchblade and attack the policeman in their midst if he would even dare to breathe the wrong way.

Gabriel Visconti was the only one who greeted Jim not with the intent of murder etched in his features but with somewhat that could possibly be described as a smile as he rose from his seat at one of the tables in the center of the restaurant and stepped up to Jim. He had only rarely spoken to Gabe directly and until now he had stricken Jim as a man of only a few words. Then again, he was Italian. Italian people, as far as he knew, were never people of _few_ words. »Detective Gordon, what can I do for you?«

The distinct difference between Gabe Visconti and his pals and the likes of Butch Gilzean and his crew was the respect for the police that was still somewhat ingrained in them. The mob was always a bunch of cockroaches, despicable beings that deserved to be thrown in jail forever. Yet, under people like Carmine Falcone who valued the proper order of things, the mob had coexisted peacefully with the police. Don Maroni had been a different kind of guy and he would have applauded Fish Mooney as she shot him. Despite having been one of Maroni’s guys, however, Gabe seemed to follow the same set of rules as Don Falcone had expected of his men. That was, perhaps, because of Oswald’s influence on his henchman in this regard - or rather Don Falcone’s influence on Oswald over the years.

»I was hoping you could tell me where your former boss is these days.« It took him a lot more effort than he cared to admit to talking to Gabe the way he usually would have. To remain calm and composed. To play the cop that had died in the early hours of the day in a poorly crafted wooden coffin in a shallow grave.

»Oswald?« Gabe asked with raised eyebrows. »What does the police want from him? He’s not even in the business anymore.«

»Have you seen him or not?« His patience was running thin already and the blood was pounding in his ears. It was getting worse and worse with each second now. He could not stand around and waste precious seconds with Gabe like this.

»I have, yes.« Gabe finally murmured but he seemed a little reluctant to continue. A minute later, Jim knew why too, as the brute nodded for Jim to follow him in a more secluded corner of the restaurant with much fewer ears listening in on their conversation. »My friends should not find out about this. They would love the opportunity to show Penguin who’s boss now that he is powerless and alone.« Gabe explained quietly. »Sometimes he comes by in the wee hours of the night when we are already closed and I heat up something to eat for him. Since he was let go from Arkham, he’s not himself anymore, Gordon. So whatever you want to blame on him - it wasn't him.«

»What do you mean he isn't himself anymore?«

»Well … You see, he was always a bit bonkers, you know? But in a good way bonkers. In a 'you don't wanna mess with him' kind of way. Whatever those people in Arkham did to him, it messed him up real good. Maybe he was a psychopath before Arkham but now he is downright crazy. He wouldn't hurt a fly anymore.« Gabe threw a look over his shoulder as if he expected someone to lean in on their conversation but the restaurant had already returned to its usual noise level of chatting Italians. In other words, it was so loud that it was almost impossible to understand Gabe’s mumbling over it.

»He claims that they healed him but if you ask me, they broke him. First time I saw him, I wanted to auction him off to his enemies piece by piece, get a few bucks out of him before he died, but then I felt sorry for him. He lives on the streets as far as I know. Probably somewhere in the Narrows. He told me that he met his father shortly after Arkham but as fate has it, the old chap bit the dust and his nasty putana of a stepmother threw him out without mercy or kindness for his situation. And since his old friend Nygma too is gone now there is no place he has left. I told him he could start working for me and my crew but he doesn't want anything to do with crime anymore.«

»Was he here recently?«

»Last week.« Gabe sighed. »Haven't seen him since then but that's not unusual. He drops by maybe every two weeks or so. Say he doesn't want to be a bother. Can you believe that?«

He couldn't and that was what made his situation and his search for Oswald even more urgent now as he left the restaurant and dipped back into the darkness of the Gotham night that was eerily illuminated by the shine of fires in the distance. The Narrows would probably be hit the hardest by the riots, he assumed, and if Oswald was in fact there, he would be an easy target. There were many people he had scorned over the years and no one would care whether or not he claimed to be sane now or not.

As he reached the poorest and most desperate district of Gotham City, the Narrows lay in turmoil already. Screaming and the sound of shattering glass filled the night. People were running as fat as their legs allowed. Some were running away from the turmoil and back to their homes where they expected to be save from it all. Some were running directly towards all the ruckus and chaos. Shop windows were smashed with stones, shops looted. Cars were damaged and set aflame. Molotov cocktails were thrown across the main street and into windows. It was pure anarchy.

There was excitement rushing through his body at the sight. He wanted to jump into the action. There was a part of him that desperately wanted to destroy, to shed blood and maim. A monster. That was who he was and the virus finally allowed him to accept that, to see that, to allow that.

Homeless people were fleeing from their usual hiding spots in the narrow streets and alleys, some were even joining in on the looting as they saw an opportunity. Who could blame them?

The deeper he dove into the streets of the Narrows, the more and more apparent became the depravity of this night. And then there was a group of people, screaming in excitement as they were chivvying someone through the dirty streets and hauling stuff at the person they were chasing. It was undoubtedly a man, clad in clothes that did not fit right. A homeless man who desperately tried to escape his attackers but finally stumbled over his own feet and fell flat to the ground. What followed was a barrage of kicks aimed at his entire body and especially his head even though the man seemed to try to shield his head.

»Not so high and mighty anymore, huh?« One of the attackers shouted as he emptied a can of beer on the head of the man on the ground. »Look at the mighty Penguin now, Guys!«

It was then that he just drew his handgun and fired three shots in the air. The attackers jumped in shock at the sound and as the first of them, the one who had spilled his beer on Oswald, saw Jim’s face, he immediately paled. He had not wasted a second thought about it all. The moment he had heard the name Penguin, it was as if a switch had flipped in his brain.  

»Fuck! Run guys!«

He aimed at the leader of the group without any hesitation as he slowly walked closer towards the group of people and he even kept aiming at them as they had already started running away like a group of little girls. He wanted to shoot them in the back and he knew that, if he would do that, he would not even feel regret. In the end, he did fire a shot but he aimed at the kneecap of the leader of the group. He hit him and the scream that tore from his throat was like music in his ears. His friends were quick to catch him before he could fall and dragged him forward. He had almost expected that they would leave their friend to die.

A part of him was disappointed that this was not what happened but he swallowed his disappointment quickly as the thugs were heading further down the street and his eyes fell upon the shivering creature on the ground.

The old Jim might have dreaded walking closer and having a proper look at that poor man on the ground but now he stepped over to him quickly, holstering his gun at his side and crouching next to him in the freshly fallen snow. Oswald stunk and not just because of the beer soaking his hair and coat. Oswald Cobblepot never stunk - at least not since he became someone in this city. He had always taken great care of himself and smelled like the most expensive colognes. Now he stunk and looked as if his last bath had been weeks ago the moment Jim was able to pry one arm from his face.

»Oswald!« He addressed the shorter man but Oswald's eyes seemed unable to focus on him and as he spoke there was a bit of blood running from his mouth.

»Jim?« He was slurring even the name that escaped his throat. His voice was hoarse and frail. He was on the brink of consciousness but the thought that he was with a friend seemed to make him relax right away. His posture slackened even but that might as well because his body was giving up resistance now.

»Stay with me now, Oswald.« He replied and shoved one arm underneath his kneecaps and the other under his back to pick him up. Oswald had never been particularly heavy as far as he could tell the very few times he had been able to assess it but now he seemed to weigh nothing at all and Jim could not even tell if this was the virus giving him more strength than he actually needed or Oswald wasting away with each day he spent on the streets of Gotham. »Keep your eyes open for me, will you? I’m getting you somewhere warm.«

»Jim?« It was a question more than anything else but Jim was not entirely sure what to make of it. There was hope in this one syllable, the unspoken question of whether or not Jim was the hero that came to rescue him from the monsters lurking in the darkness all around. He wouldn't know what answer to give to that. So, instead, his own blue eyes remained locked with those of Oswald.

The color of his eyes was somewhere between seafoam and a hurricane. They had always seemed clearer, colder and bluer before Arkham. Now the color was indistinguishable. He couldn't tell if they were green or if they were blue.

As Oswald’s gaze started to slip for the first time, Jim started running. He had no plan set in his mind, no ideal place he wanted to go so he just started running. His own apartment was out of the question. The GCPD, Harvey, would come looking for him sooner rather than later. He was infected with the virus and thus a danger. Infected were shot in the streets like animals by his own colleagues. He couldn't have them find him and Oswald. He needed to protect Oswald and that he wouldn't be able to do if they would force this cure on him. Never had he felt stronger. Never had he felt more in tune with his own emotions. He could see clearly now and what he saw was Oswald.

It had always been Oswald.

 

**-End of Chapter 2-**


	3. Chapter 3

One of the first things he had experienced in Arkham was also one of the most memorable. He would always carry the memory of being stripped out of his mismatched assortment of clothes in a brightly lit room while some nurse was inspecting him for injuries or any hidden items. It had been the most humiliating experience in his life, only to be then immediately trumped by the following shower before he had finally gotten his scratchy Arkham uniform with the number B-113 crudely drawn on the front in red paint. He had been spitting fire and venom then but these days he could understand the precautions and the treatment he went through. After all, he had been a violent criminal before and much more like a raging rabid animal at times.

Still, despite that he knew how necessary the treatment had been, his time in Arkham would forever haunt him. Inside the hospital, it had been like in a zoo in which all the cages of the most brutal creatures had been left open. Every day had been a struggle, a battle for survival even. He had been plummeted by morons and lunatics and harassed by the staff constantly. He had been the victim of other patients during lunch when they had thrown their meal at him or made fun of the way he walked. The nights had been the worst. He had only slept lulled into unconsciousness by the pills he had been fed or the exhaustion from his treatment, too afraid to actually fall asleep only to be awoken by the nurses who would come to him to rip him out of his bed and his cell in the middle of the night again and again.

Needless to say, his nights after Arkham had not been any easier. If anything, they had been worse because now he had not even the drugs to render him unconscious anymore. Whenever he would fall asleep from exhaustion, he would relive those nights inside of Arkham again in constant repetition like an old record that got stuck on the needle of a gramophone - like the one his mother had had. The screams of the other patients - sometimes his own ringing in his ears still - were haunting him every waking hour and every time he closed his eyes. He couldn't escape no matter how much he tried or what he did. But it was not just Arkham. The pain of his past crimes was keeping him from a peaceful slumber too. Every time he would fall asleep, he would see the terrible things he had done repeat right in front of him as if he was just watching a movie, incapable of changing anything about that.  

Surely, this was only because of his past sins and as long as he would be good and kind to those around him, the voices would sooner or later leave him alone. He was cured, after all. Professor Strange had cured him. Being nice and kind was not always easy, especially not when living on the streets of Gotham with no one he could turn to. Edward was gone, sent to Arkham for the murders of several people. He was his friend, yes, but he deserved it too. Edward had done horrible things and he deserved to be put in Arkham so that Professor Strange might cure him too. He was sick and he wanted him to get better.

However, if being kind and good would be easy, then what would be the point? No, the point was that he had to struggle to keep going like this, to not give into his old ways and worldviews. Getting cured had been easy, now came the hard part. Being good in a world in which it was all too easy to be bad.

Oswald didn't know what exactly hit him when it all started. It had been a pretty normal day until everything had gone completely haywire. The day had started grey and unfriendly, just a normal winter day in Gotham. The fog had lingered over the streets with no intention to vanish before noon. He remembered that, before Arkham, he had enjoyed weather like this. It was true that the cold and the moisture would seep into his destroyed leg and make it hurt even worse than it usually did, however, it had still been calming to him for some odd reason. These days he dreaded the unfriendly nature of the Gotham weather and the cold seeping right into his bones.

It reminded him too much of the months he had spent inside Arkham, locked in a cold moldy cell with the cries of other unfortunate souls around him. Arkham was an old building and it had always been cold. Every night he had shivered underneath his blankets and clutched them as close as he possibly could while a thick blanket of fog would lay over the perimeter just outside his window, threatening to creep inside. It was eerie and uncomfortable.

It had started to snow again in the early afternoon and that was also when the first signs that something was going on in the city, started to appear. He was in central Gotham, not too far away from the GCPD and Edward’s old apartment, when it happened. There was commotion around the Union Station, sirens going off in the distance. A few months ago, Oswald would have gone over to where the commotion was to see what it was all about and how he could profit from the situation but now he couldn't be any farther away from the chaos.

The thought that some other new lunatic had gone off the rails again and was now terrorizing the city sent shivers of fear down his spine and so, instead of running towards it, he clasped his moth bitten coat closer around himself and started running in the opposite direction as quickly as his destroyed leg would allow him to.

Apparently, as Oswald found out a little while later, it was a bomb that had gone off in Union Station and plunged the city into a state of utter chaos as it had spread a virus through Union Station and the surrounding area despite the police’s best efforts of evacuating the district.

By nightfall, the entire city was an inferno. Explosions were shaking the foundation of Gotham to its core at every street corner. Screams were ripping and tearing through the night. As far as Oswald had been able to figure out, the GCPD had been determined to find the bomb before it could go off and as they had realized they might not be successful, they had evacuated the area around Union Station in the early afternoon. However, the devastation as the bomb had gone off and the virus inside of it had been spread through the air, was all too prominent in the later hours of the day.

A part of him, that nagging little voice at the back of his head had worried what might have happened to his friend Jim in all of this. Where was he? Had he been there when the bomb had exploded? Was he one of the victims of the virus? Was he injured? The virus, and that had become pretty clear pretty fast, was a new and improved version of the virus Jervis Tetch had developed, an evolved version of the virus his sister Alice had carried all her life. It didn't kill anyone, only transformed them into complete monsters.

There were riots in the streets from those who did get infected, those who did not manage to escape the blast or the contaminated area quick enough. This night, Gotham would sink into pure chaos and anarchy, a sight that filled Oswald to the core with dread as he saw it on the news on one of the many TVs that were showcased in the window of an electronics shop. It was then that a stone shot past his left ear and smashed the window that Oswald started to hurry down the street. He should find shelter somewhere and better be quick just like the news anchor has urged the good people of Gotham to do. The Narrows weren't safe under normal circumstances but tonight it was like the fifth circle of Hell straight out of Dante’s Inferno. People were attacking each other like rabid dogs if they were not smashing windows and looting stores.

The virus had unveiled the darkest part of those who got infected and amplified it.

Quickly, he pulled the hood of the hoodie he was wearing underneath the old coat and above his suit underneath further into his face and the collar of his coat higher as he was quickly making his way down the sidewalk even though his bad leg was protesting with much fervor. There were people running back to their homes as fast as they could to get back into safety and away from the riots.

But where could he go?

He knew that he himself too had to be careful. He was treading dangerous territory as he was walking these streets. Looking back on the past few years, suddenly everything seemed dangerous and he was amazed at how little he had cared before Arkham, how little fear he had known. Somehow, the old Oswald had always managed to get out of any given situation no matter how dire and he would certainly come out on top in a situation as this too. In the end, the old Oswald would have even made a profit out of this virus.

It was true that his life had derailed quite a bit ever since he had been released from Arkham but at least he had met his father and though their time had been cut short by his father's sickness, he was glad to have gotten the chance to know him at least. All his life he had thought his father had died before he was born but he didn't hold it against his mother. At least he knew now that he still had a family out there.

Maybe, he thought, if he would make it out of the city and to the old Van Dahl Mansion, Grace would grant him shelter for the night or as long as it would take for this chaos to die down a little. He had no other place to stay, after all. First, he had been saddened by her fear of him and that she had not allowed him to stay at his family’s estate, but now he understood. She had to protect her children, first and foremost, after all. Those were dangerous times and Oswald had been a dangerous man. One could never be too careful. Maybe he even deserved being on the streets these days for every wrong thing he had done in the past.

Living on the streets of Gotham was not as bad anyway. He had learned that most homeless people on which he had looked down before his time in Arkham, were actually quite welcoming and willing to help another human being in need. He had learned many things in terms of survival and yet, Oswald was working hard to get back on his feet taking every job people were willing to offer him.

He thought about Edward and how he would go for him for help in a night like this, but his friend was in Arkham for the murder of Kristen Kringle, Officer Dougherty, and various other people - and for planting evidence on Jim Gordon to get him locked up and hopefully killed in Blackgate. Needless to say, he deserved to be in Arkham, though he felt sorry for his good friend Ed. He was a nice guy, but he was ill and he needed the help that only a place like Arkham Asylum could give him. If anyone knew this, it was Oswald. Because of that, he visited Edward quite regularly these days and his friend was still holding up quite well in there. Surely, he would be free in no time.

And then there was Gabe. Good old loyal Gabe who would sometimes let him inside his mother's restaurant in the Theater District when it was already closed and warm up some of the leftovers for him. He could go there but meeting the other thugs would be quite dangerous. They had agreed that their little arrangement had to stay a secret between Gabe and him. In addition to that, he could impossibly burden Gabe with his presence during this messy situation out in the streets.

Thinking about it, there was still his good friend James Gordon. He was a good man and would probably want to help him out. He hadn't seen him ever since their brief encounter in Arkham but surely Jim would extend a helping hand under these circumstances. The GCPD would probably be the safest place for Oswald tonight anyway. That was why he turned and headed down the street. The Narrows were not particularly close to the Gotham Central precinct where Jim was working but he could make it there if he would lay low and avoid the busy streets.

»Hey!« A shout was ripping him from his thoughts and he almost stumbled over his bad foot in the process of looking over his shoulder as much as the hood allowed it. »You are Penguin, aren't you?«

He stopped in his tracks although a voice in his head told him that he really shouldn't stop. Still, he did and turned around fully so that he could look at the person who had addressed him. The young red-headed man was flanked by two more young men and every single one of them was clad in dark pants and black hoodies, their hands protected by leather gloves. One of them was carrying a crowbar and the backpacks they were wearing looked quite heavy already. Evidently, they were part of the looters that had a field day tonight. It was impossible to say if they were infected or just took the opportunity at hand.

»I-I am … I’m Oswald.« He quickly replied with a nervous smile on his lips. »I am not the Penguin anymore.« His words came out with a small stutter but by now he was used to this question and to being addressed as the Penguin still. Most people hesitated to give him a job because of his reputation. His face had been all over the local newspapers, after all. This did not make it any easier, though - or more comfortable. Especially not in a situation like this when the entire city was in uproar because of the Tetch-virus.

»Did you hear that?« The man who had addressed him first looked at his friends with a grin on his face. »Can you believe that? He is Oswald! Not the Penguin.« The laughter that followed was the harbinger of disaster to follow. It was a sound that Oswald knew ever since he had been a little boy and the victim of schoolyard bullies.

The leader of the trio was quick to bridge the gap between him and Oswald and before he knew it, the man had slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. »Doesn't matter what you call yourself, Ozzie, my friend. One does not always meet a celebrity like the Penguin himself, right? How about you join us for a little bit of fun?«

※※※※※※※

He ran as fast as his feet and legs would allow him to without slipping on the fresh snow on the ground. The taunts and shouts were echoing after him and every time he started to tire and slow just a bit, there would be something flying past his head or hitting him in the back, again and again, prompting him to run faster. There was no plan to his escape only blind panic that kept him going. Forgotten was the idea to run to the GCPD, to Gordon, for help.

He had no idea how far he had run already only that he could barely breathe by this point and that his knees were buckling underneath the weight of his body and the stress he was putting on it. As he finally stumbled over his destroyed foot and slammed into the snow-covered pavement, he could not get up again.

He tried to push himself up on his arms but in the end, he could not do it. He expected the kicks as they came. It would be a lie to say that he hadn't expected them and lying was bad. Even though he had tried to play it all off in the beginning and act as if it was just a game between him and his new friends, it had become pretty clear to him quickly that they were out to harm him as they had started throwing things at his back. No matter how much he wanted to see them as friends and people who didn't actually want to hurt him, the truth was there right in front of him. He didn't understand why they kicked him as he was already on the ground although this was exactly the thing he would have done months ago.

He didn't know these men, had never harmed any of them in the past. Yet, they only saw him and with that his old self, the Penguin and they were out for blood. It wouldn't be the first time either. ever since he had left Arkham with the certificate that was still in the inside pocket of his coat, he had faced a great deal of anger directed at his person. Wandering the streets of Gotham hadn't been easy ever since and there hadn't been anyone he could have turned to for help.

It was true that he had wanted to go to see Jim Gordon right in the beginning, but every time he had gone to the GCPD, he hadn't been there or the city had been in turmoil over some new dangerous threat again. It had never seemed like the right moment to approach him. In Arkham he had found himself imagining meeting Jim again outside and how they could become true friends at last now that Oswald was cured. Of course, they would never be more than friends. Jim had had Lee Thompkins after all and Lee was not just beautiful but intelligent and kind too, the perfect woman for a man like James Gordon.

Still, it was true. From the first moment that his eyes had met Jim's not even two years ago,  his heart had always belonged to the cop. In the beginning, he had been certain that it was just his sometimes self-destructive personality that was being drawn to a man like Jim because a relationship with a good man like Jim could have never worked anyway. Oswald had always been drawn to the things he couldn't have. That was just a fact. He had sought the thrill of the chase, the adventure that only Jim Gordon seemed to promise to him. How often had he searched for someone in a dimly lit club and later imagined them to be Jim? He had lost count.

There was just something about Jim Gordon that had immediately clicked with him, that had grabbed his attention and ever since he hadn't been able to let go of the fantasy of this man. Even in Arkham, seeing Jim’s face that day when he came for this case he had been working on, it had meant much more to him than he had been able to convey at the moment. He had been certain that Jim would help him to get out and evade his punishment and as he hadn't, he had been angry, furious even, ready to throw Jim under the bus for the murder of Galavan.

In the end, he had to be thankful that Jim had not helped him to get out, otherwise, he would have never been able to get better and get the help that he needed.

Maybe now was not the right moment to think about these things while he was lying on the dirty snow covered ground and being kicked to a bloody pulp by a group of random thugs. Yet, for some reason, his mind was clinging to those thoughts and memories as if they would help him as he tried to shield his head and his face from the assault. By this point, he was certain that they would only stop when he was dead.

They were like raging beasts in their attack on him and they wouldn't stop until they had slain their prey. He wanted to scream for help but every time he would open his mouth, he couldn't form the words and only screams of pain would escape him that only served to spur those men on even more and more. Every single one of his screams was like fuel to their fire.

It was when he already saw the darkness creeping in on him at the edge of his field of vision, as he heard Fish’s voice inside his head. Not the Fish he had once known as her umbrella boy, the demanding, eccentric gangster who would never accept any sign of weakness but the Fish Mooney he had seen only a little while ago after her breakout from Arkham. She had been changed not just by death but the modification to her entire being. Their meeting had been fleeting, short and entirely coincidental.

It had been pure coincidence that he had been on that road the night the Arkham bus had the accident and when Fish and all her comrades had escaped. He had been frozen in fear the moment he had laid eyes on her and nearly even fainted just from seeing her. But Fish had only brushed the tips of her claw-like fingernails over his left cheek and stared at him. Not with hatred or anger, not with the thirst for revenge but love, forgiveness even. There was something motherly about the way she had looked at him and treated him and now, in his darkest hour, he could clearly hear her voice in his head.

Words of encouragement and hope. She was encouraging him not to give up just yet, to hold out just a bit longer even as the next kick hit him straight in the back of his head and made him see stars. By this point, his entire body was in agony and he knew that he wouldn't be able to stay afloat for much longer. He was drowning in the deep waters of the harbor once more. Still, the voice inside his head urged him on. _Just a moment longer, pretty Bird. Just a minute longer._

And he ground his teeth and groaned in pain as something was poured all over his head. His hair was soaked from the stinking liquid. Beer, his mind was quick to supply. He had always hated beer. The taste was too bitter and now the smell would seep into his scalp and his clothes and he would never be able to wash it off even if he would survive this. »Not so high and mighty anymore, huh?« One of them shouted and his friends cheered him on in laughter. »Look at the mighty Penguin now, guys!«

It was then that he could hear three loud shots being fired in the distance. Suddenly, the barrage of kicks and insults ended but instead of watching what was happening around him, Oswald only curled in on himself even more than he already had, cradling his injured head with his arms and waiting for the inevitable.

»Fuck! Run, guys!« The leader of the group yelled and a second after that they started running away from the scene, their steps like the thundering of a herd of elephants on the snow-covered asphalt as Oswald was shivering in fear, pain and cold. Whoever had saved him like this, soon would come and finish what those guys had started. In a few seconds, he would have a bullet in his head as he should have had a few years ago on that pier as he manipulated James Gordon, the good James Gordon, into not ending his life prematurely. He had been twenty-nine at the time. A young man with great ambition and James Gordon older only by two years, himself a man of great ambition. The only difference back then had been that James Gordon, even then, had been the hero that this city so desperately needed.

Maybe that was why Oswald had stayed away from him after his release from Arkham too. Even though he was cured, the chances that he would taint Jim’s good heart had been too big.  

There was yet another shot but the pain did not come and the embrace of death would not lull him into cold slumber either. Instead, there was a scream tearing through the dark hours of the early evening lingering over Gotham. The scream was not even coming from his own throat, miraculously enough and he thought that he knew the voice but he was too groggy to put words to what he was thinking at the moment. Everything was starting to melt together into one big blur of colors, emotions, and impressions. He could not say where he began and the ground ended anymore. He could not tell whether he was awake or unconscious or whether his bones were broken or not. He felt mushy, he felt like he was floating on a cloud of agony.

Suddenly, there was a sharp pull on one of his arms and the light of a lamp post almost blinding him before a face appeared in his field of vision. Although at first, he wasn't quite able to tell that it was indeed a face.

»Oswald!« A voice was demanding his attention and he blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus on the face hovering just inches above him. He knew that face, that most handsome of faces, and that voice that had only ever talked in disdain to him until now.

»Jim?« Talking had never been harder and even just this name took every bit of strength from him that he still possessed. Yet, the thought alone that he was with a friend, with Jim, succeeded in relaxing him enough to take a bit from the pain.

»Stay with me now, Oswald.« There was some movement to his body. He couldn't quite place what was happening but suddenly he was hurled from the ground and floated on a set of strong arms. At least it felt like it.  »Keep your eyes open for me, will you? I’m getting you somewhere warm.«

»Jim?« He repeated but didn't even mean to address the other man. It was him voicing the hope that was surging through his body. He had been saved. Jim had come and saved him. His knight in shining armor. He would forever be indebted to him - again. His deep blue eyes were like a shining beacon of hope in the middle of that grim and frightful night and yet he had a hard time keeping his own eyes locked with Jim’s and as his eyes finally slipped shut, he was at ease.

※※※※※※※

He was in his mother's apartment again. He was a little boy again, sitting on one of the countertops with his feet dangling over the edge, his stockings pulled high and his new leather shoes freshly polished. The sunlight was pouring warm into the small apartment through the freshly washed windows. He blinked slowly against the bright light as he was gently swaying his feet back and forth, back and forth.

His mother was standing just beside him, so close that he would be able to touch her if he would extend his left hand towards her. She was standing in front of the stove, stirring in a pot, the smell of her famed goulash in the air and the song she was humming in his ears, shaping his entire world.

For a second, all he wanted to do was to touch her, to extend his hand towards her and feel her fingers close around his, her arms around him. It was the most desperate thought he had ever had in his life. But he didn't extend his hand toward her and his mother just turned her face towards him and smiled.

»Oswald.« She spoke but it wasn't her voice coming from her mouth. »Oswald, you need to wake up now.« But he was awake, wasn't he?

He could feel a touch to his temple, fingers running through his hair but it wasn't his mother's fingers. Oswald blinked slowly against the warm light shining on his face and as he did, his mother's apartment vanished. Instead, a whole different, yet oddly familiar world started to take shape around him.  

To his right-hand side, he could make out an ethereal green glow coming from a set of large windows. Outside was a neon sign that was casting the green light into the room and a lamp on his left-hand side, right beside the bed he was lying in, was casting a warm glow on his face. »Oswald.« There was this voice again and the gentle touch of fingers brushing his hair out of his face. He knew the voice, yet he had never heard it like this before. He knew those fingers, yet they had never touched him like this. And he knew the face that was suddenly hovering over him, yet he could barely recognize it.

Oswald had never quite thought that Jim's touch would feel so gentle and soft or that his eyes could look at him so warmly, almost lovingly. »You are awake.« He sounded so relieved. Jim Gordon was truly a good man when he could care so much for someone like him. »I almost thought I’d lost you.«

Now he was certain that he was dreaming. Why would he say something like this? They were friends, of course, but this was somehow very different as was the way Jim cupped his face with one of his calloused hands. The touch was intimate, almost like a lover’s touch. He couldn't make sense of it.  

»What happened?« His entire body felt as if it was aflame and he grew acutely aware that he stank horribly from beer and sweat and months on the streets of Gotham without any chance to bathe properly. Suddenly, he felt very self-conscious of his smell and the way he looked. Maybe it was all caused by the way Jim looked at him as if suddenly he was the only thing in the world that mattered while outside the city was in turmoil. »Where are we?«

»Nygma’s flat.« Jim replied quietly as if he didn't want to startle him while his hand remained on his cheek almost lovingly. It only occurred then to Oswald, that Jim had never actually touched his skin before. He had almost always been careful not to touch Oswald's skin - at least that was how it had appeared in the past. Every time Jim had actually touched him, it had been violent, a display of power, a constant fight for gaining the upper hand. He had pulled him close by the lapels of his coat or grabbed him by the back of his suit, shoved him against walls and growled in his face. There was nothing of that left now. Only the gentle caress of fingers on his cheek. »You are save. That is all that matters. I drew you a hot bath, thought you’d need it.«

»Ed’s flat?« Oswald repeated confused. Of course, a part of his brain had already registered that fact but until now he had not quite been able to put his finger on it. »Is he here?«

There was a shadow flickering over Jim's face almost as if his words displeased him but then he gently helped Oswald to sit up in the bed. »I broke in. Ed is still in Arkham, don't worry about him. He isn't important now. You are. Those assholes beat you up good.«

»I've had worse.« Oswald mumbled with a small smile even though everything hurt as he finally managed to get into a sitting position. Not just during his time with the mob but also after Arkham had he been the subject of attacks by all kinds of people. It was understandable, he assumed. He had slighted many people before he had been cured and those people were naturally lashing out on him when they would see him now out in the streets. This would pass. »How did you find me?«

»I searched for you.« The words seemed to come out naturally and he couldn't help the smile spreading over his face especially as Jim's hand found its way back to his cheek.

»But why? The whole city is in chaos…«

»I’ll explain later.« Jim promised and helped him out of the bed. »Come now before the water gets cold. You are frozen all over. You could need a bath and something proper to eat. Let me take care of you.«

Why would he argue with that? He was glad for the kindness this man was showing him and for just a second he was reminded of his own father and the day they met at his mother’s grave. Such kindness he had never known before.

Slowly, Oswald managed to get to his feet with Jim’s help. He knew his way around the apartment by heart after all the time he had spent here with Ed in the past. It didn't take long for them to reach the bathroom and with Jim’s help, he was even quicker to shed the suit he had been wearing for the last couple of months until he was just in his underwear and dress shirt. The suit was the last suit his poor father ever made. He cherished it greatly but now it was time for it to go have a wash, he assumed. It was already ripped at the seams but he didn't have anything else.

Since Arkham, he was connecting a ton of bad memories to bathtubs but this one right here was a reminder of better times. Not necessarily times he wished to go back to, but a reminder of the friendship he had shared with Edward and the kindness the other man had shown him in his darkest hours. They had been total strangers and Oswald not even very nice to Ed beforehand. Yet, Edward Nygma had decided to help a stranger in need.

»I have heard about what happened to you, Jim … You went to Blackgate and Lee lost your child. I am very sorry for all of that, Jim.« Maybe now was not the right moment to talk about something as traumatic and tragic as this but he was afraid that he wouldn't get another chance would he not talk to Jim about all of this now. Jim Gordon wouldn't be Jim Gordon, however, would he not brush off his concerns.

»It wasn't your fault.«

He wasn't surprised to hear those words. Jim was a man who liked to blame himself for everything and never those around him. Even when he had been a criminal and thus Jim’s enemy, Jim had never really blamed him for what had gone wrong in his life, no matter if Oswald’s involvement in his business had been the cause of his shortcomings or not. »I should tell you that Ed got the information from me that he used against you. He could go against you and have you arrested because I told him what truly happened that night at the shore with Galavan.«

»I figured as much.« Jim replied with a smirk.  

He couldn't quite place the expression on Jim's face. He didn't seem angry at all despite his confession and despite the fact that he would be very much justified to be angry.

»But-«

»I deserved it.« Jim quickly added cutting him off. »You asked me for help in Arkham and I didn't help you. You told me you were tortured and I left you to suffer for a crime that I committed.«

»I did many bad things before that. I deserved being in Arkham and finally got the help that I needed there. If anything, I should be thankful that you left me there.« The answer came almost automatic. It was the right thing to say even though the dark voice in the back of his mind still begged to differ. Whatever the old Oswald had said in the past, it had not been torture, it had been therapy. They had treated him, they had healed him and healing often involved pain, he knew that.

»Lets just say we’re even.« Again he brushed his fingers over Oswald’s cheek and he couldn't keep the red from creeping into his face by the unexpected touch. However, Jim surprised him one more time as he did not leave him alone as he was only in his underwear, a pair of boxer briefs and a stained undershirt. Instead, Oswald felt Jim's eyes roam over his half-naked body. »I thought I’d lost you.«

He didn't know why he had the thought and he knew that it was not even in the realm of possibility, but for a second, he was sure that Jim would actually kiss him following those words. Instead, he finally stepped back and left him, even though there was the flicker of something he could not quite name, washing over Jim's face. He was almost relieved as Jim finally left the bathroom and allowed Oswald to strip out of his shorts and remaining shirt to finally sink into the hot water of the bathtub. He couldn't quite shrug off the memories of Arkham as he sank into the water but at least this water was hot. In Arkham, the nurses had loved it to place the patients into cold water or to ridicule them and every little flaw they could find on their bodies. They hadn't meant what they said, of course. He was certain that they had meant the patients no real harm.

He was truly blessed to have a friend like Jim who cared for him despite everything he had done and everything they had been through. Had it not been for Jim he might have died tonight during these riots tonight. The virus, the Tetch-Virus, as the news hostess had called it, was spreading like wildfire through the city as it seemed. Undoubtedly, he would have found his end tonight, whether through the hands of those maniacs or some other thug who had a bone to pick with him. Truly, the old Oswald had been an awful human being. But now with Jim's help, he would be better for certain. With Jim's friendship, how could he be bad?

In another life, he wondered, had he not been a criminal as they had first met, maybe there could have been the chance that they could have been something more. Friends, at the very least. Perhaps more than that. Then again, Jim had only ever been with women as far as Oswald knew and even if he would have been into men as well … As if he would have ever even considered Oswald to be a suitable mate.

He soaked in the tub for twenty minutes before he came out and as he did and wrapped a towel around his narrow hips, he found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. It was true, he was not ugly per se. He was certainly different but not ugly. His nose was a tiny bit too long and beak-like but that was not a disfiguring kind of flaw. His freckles were a bit too many and too weirdly and unevenly sprayed over his face and upper body but that too did not make him ugly. His hair had grown since Arkham. In Arkham, the nurses had cut it quite short at his arrival but he hadn't had a haircut since he had gotten admitted to the hospital. It was too long now, too untamed and his blue eyes were duller than in the past. He was thin, haggard even. Of course, on the streets he didn't get much food and he could not possibly go to Gabe every two days and ask for something to eat. His old henchman - his old friend - was doing more than enough already. He didn't want to get him in trouble with his crew.

Still, despite his assessment that he wasn't necessarily ugly, James Gordon still was in an entirely different league. There was no way for Oswald to ever even dream of being with Jim, even though, in the past, that was where his focus had lied quite a bit. He remembered how nervous he had gotten every time he had met with Jim after his return to Gotham. He remembered how fast his heart had beaten just by the thought of meeting him or hearing his voice - how fast it was still beating whenever he would lay his eyes upon him. He had bent over backward to do favors for him, hoping, foolishly, that Jim would maybe become his friend.

A knock on the door was startling him and pulling him out of his idle thoughts. »Oz« Jim had never called him that until now. The old Oswald would be furious. All it did to him, however, was making his heart flutter in his narrow chest. »Is everything alright? Can I come in? I need to get a look at your wounds.«

His whole body was black and blue from the assault - at least as far as he could tell by his reflection alone. His back was worse and his head still hurt from where they had hit him. Not to mention all the little stones or beer cans they had thrown at him as they had chased him through the streets. He just wanted to sleep it all off but he knew that they couldn't stay here forever. It wouldn't be right even though Ed would probably not even mind that he was here. Ed was such a good friend.

»Coming.« He muttered as he slowly walked over to the door. He felt dizzy moving around too much and so he was slow and unsteady on his feet as he maneuvered to the door. Not long after that he had opened the door and found himself once more confronted with James Gordon. For a moment, as their eyes locked, he hardly recognized the other man. There was something in those stormy blue eyes of the policeman that send shivers down his spine, something that he had never quite seen until now and that he couldn't name either.

Then the spell was broken and Jim’s eyes trailed down his body. This time, Oswald could name the emotion flickering over Jim's face as he took in the damage to Oswald's body. It was anger. Rage even. Fury. And then, as Oswald noticed the shift in his expression and those horrible veins popping all around his bloodshot eyes, finally it dawned on him what it was that was so different, yet so familiar.

»You have the virus.«

 

**-End of Chapter 3-**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. The porn is bad. I tried xD

»You have the virus.« The words that escaped Oswald did not sound afraid and his face too did not look afraid either. He seemed more concerned than anything. He was almost surprised, yes, almost flinched, as Oswald extended his hand and put his fingertips carefully on his cheek close to his left eye touching the horrible veins he felt popping out all around his eyes.

Jim, on the other hand, only felt anger as he looked at Oswald. Not anger directed at the smaller man in front of him. Anger at his attackers and himself for not having shot them all in their backs. »I should have killed those assholes. Look at what they’ve done to you.«

The way Oswald fluttered his lashes and turned his gaze to the side in embarrassment over Jim’s words was almost gut-wrenching to Jim. Whatever those people in Arkham had done to him … This man right in front of him was as far removed from the Oswald he knew as if they were two entirely different people. He could only wonder if his Oswald was still in there, waiting to get back out. He could draw him back out with the virus, as the dark voice in the back of his head reminded him quietly. The thought was certainly appealing. Nothing would be easier than infecting Oswald. Yet, there was still a little of the old Jim left inside of him. Just enough to know that it would be the most horrible thing he could ever do to another human being.

Maybe Oswald was happier like this. Who was he to decide what life Oswald should be living? No. He didn't care if Oswald stayed this way or not as long as he would be his. Despite the virus, Jim was still capable of seeing how much more obsessive his thoughts had turned ever since he had found Oswald lying in the street. His thoughts were focused entirely on keeping Oswald safe and protecting him for he seemed incapable of protecting himself nowadays. He had always liked the role of the protector. That had drawn him to Barbara. She had been so weak back then, a princess in need of rescuing.

But Oswald was not supposed to be like this.

»Jim … What happened to you?« Only his words and his hoarse voice pulled Jim out of his thoughts and made him spring back into action. He grabbed Oswald by his left wrist, one of the only few body parts that seemed free from injury and pulled Oswald towards the bed. It was creaking impressively under the bit of weight as he made Oswald sit down on the edge and joined him shortly after he had collected the first aid kit from the kitchen table where he had put it before in preparation of this. At least Ed’s apartment was properly stocked in that regard.

»Unimportant.« He replied gruffly as he opened the kit and started rummaging through its contents. It didn't take long for him to find what he needed before he started patching Oswald up as far as he could. There was nothing he could do about the blossoming bruises all over his thin body. He could only clean and bandage the few open wounds and cuts he had on him and after that was done putting everything to the side again.

»You seem different.« Oswald muttered quietly as Jim was finished. »Why were you looking for me? Shouldn't you be out there looking for Lee or … helping the GCPD?«

»I should.« Jim replied with a smirk. »But I wanted to look for you. You know, the best thing about that virus is that suddenly it becomes very clear what you really want and need in your life. I never experienced something like this before. Suddenly, everything became clear to me. When I got out of that trap … All I could think about was you.«

The way Oswald's mouth hung open after that confession told him that the younger man would have never expected something like this, which made him wonder if he had ever had someone telling him how important he was to them. Surely, his mother had but that was very different from this situation, he supposed. In the past, he had never thought about the sex-life of one Oswald Cobblepot as if to Jim, he had been only an asexual android creature without feeling or needs. That had only changed slightly as he had been confronted by Oswald with a shotgun and had seen the deeply seated agony he had been in after his mother’s death. Now, he couldn't help but wonder if he had had boyfriends before. What about Nygma? He had seen the way Ed had looked at Oswald when he had woken up in this very bed and found them singing together at the piano only months ago.

The thought alone that Ed Nygma, the man who had blackmailed him and ruined his life, might have had a relationship of that nature with Oswald made him furious and wish that he could march into Arkham to rip his head off clean.

»But-«

»I don't care what happens to this city, Oswald. To hell with Gotham. To hell with the GCPD. They kept me long enough from being with you.« It was the blush that was spreading over Oswald's cheeks that made him snap at last.

Everything after that happened too fast to fully grasp it and Jim was certain that this sensation was only amplified for Oswald. However, the way he looked at him, the way he seemed so surprised by everything Jim had to say, did not allow Jim to refrain from pulling Oswald closer by his neck to steal the first of hopefully many sloppy kisses from the smaller man. There was a shocked gasp escaping Oswald's brittle lips and Jim took it as his chance to slip his tongue into his mouth searching for Oswald's. The moan that escaped Oswald next as Jim's tongue brushed over his, send a shockwave of electricity straight down to his groin.

It helped that Oswald was naked except for the towel around his narrow hips. The thought alone made the blood in his veins pump louder and hotter until he could hear almost nothing but the rush of his blood in his ears. Before he knew it his fingers had trailed from Oswald’s neck down his naked chest before stopping just above the towel around his hips.

He didn't know how many chances he would get in the near future with him being probably searched by the GCPD to explore Oswald's body completely and so he wanted to take his time. However, the moment his fingers slipped under the rim of the towel, Oswald suddenly withdrew. »What's wrong?« Jim huffed against his lips.

»We shouldn't rush this.« Oswald mumbled and the hesitation in his voice was obvious just as the blush on his face was. He was clearly uncomfortable but Jim couldn't quite tell what it was that was bothering Oswald. »I don't feel so good. Maybe I should rest a little.«

»I get you something to eat.«

»You can't go out there, Jim … It's madness.« This time it was Oswald who was actually brave enough to bridge the distance and grab the lapels of his jacket with trembling fingers, his eyes suddenly large with fear. The fear that Jim would leave him all alone in here, the fear that something might happen to Jim. At least that was what he wanted to believe. He had seen the way Oswald had looked at him in the past and ever since he had woken up in this apartment. Oswald's feelings for him still held strong, the same feelings he had decided to brush aside and maybe even make fun of with Harvey in the past. And yes, despite that he had acted as if Oswald had only had a minor crush on him, he had one too many times used this knowledge to his advantage. »You could get hurt.«

»I can handle myself.« He knew that it would be dangerous for him to leave the apartment. Edward Nygma’s apartment was not exactly far away from the precinct but it was a calculated risk and a necessary one at this too. Oswald was in a terrible state and he was right, they shouldn't rush this. They would have all the time in the world as soon as Jim had made a plan what he wanted to do next. Maybe Lee’s plan to just leave Gotham had not been too far off. Maybe that was exactly what Oswald and he should do. Leave Gotham and start over.

He rose slowly from the edge of the bed. As long as he was still in control of his body and senses, as long as the virus was not yet completely dictating his every move, he needed to get going. There was still a part of his mind responsible enough not to pressure Oswald any further. Surely it was quite a lot for the young man. Until tonight, Jim Gordon had been a man who had used him for his personal gain, who had profited from his skill and knowledge and who had been all too quick to throw him gladly in a cell at every turn to leave him to rot.

They hadn't been friends, no matter what Oswald would have said in the past or said now. He didn't want to overwhelm him when it was all too much even for himself. Hours ago, he had been certain that Lee Thompkins was the love of his life and now he could think about nothing but Oswald and the vicious voice in the back of his head reminding him of who he truly was. He was a monster. And how would Oswald react would he see his true face now?

The old Oswald - the one with the shark-like grin and the manic eyes - would have rejoiced in seeing Jim changing like this. At least that was what he was inclined to believe. Then again the old Oswald had been a hopeless romantic fool also. He was a very old-fashioned young man, a man who had dreamed of knights in shining armors, who had equated Jim to a hero - the last hero this city had - naming Jim subsequently his opposite in all of this mess. Perhaps the old Oswald would have preferred Jim to stay the way he had always been, a boy scout, a good guy, the hero he so desperately had wanted to see in him. It was impossible to tell.

»Just … lie down, try to catch some Zs, I go out and get something to eat.« Among other things. He was starting to formulate a plan in his mind. They would leave Gotham if Oswald wanted to leave Gotham. But before they were able to do just that, they needed provisions. They needed new clothes, food, water, maybe another gun or two, documents. The city was under lockdown and it would stay like this until the epidemic would be under control. That could take weeks. maybe longer than that. They couldn't hide out for such a long time in Edward Nygma’s crappy apartment.

The GCPD would be searching for him very soon and they would find him - Harvey would find him if he truly wanted to. He couldn't keep Oswald locked up in this apartment forever too. He had been locked up for long enough in Arkham. He deserved to be free. However, Harvey was not dumb. He would have people looking for Oswald too after Jim had told him that he was trying to find him. And if he would find Oswald … The way Oswald was behaving now … Oswald would tell him sooner or later. And then they would force the cure upon him. The only way out of the city was through the central train station but there would be police checkpoints. They needed new IDs and they needed to somehow change their appearance enough so that they would not provoke any suspicion.

Oswald was already slowly climbing under the blankets, still just with the towel around his hips, as Jim looked over his shoulder one last time. They shared a glance and a small smile before Jim finally left the apartment.

It was like stepping from a dream straight into a nightmare or a Kafkaesque fever dream. Outside people were still raising havoc over the city and thus Jim had the perfect cover for his mission. He didn't need to try and hide or be as inconspicuous as possible in the mass of people rummaging the streets of central Gotham. They were close to the precinct, almost hiding in plain sight in Ed’s apartment.

Yet, despite the close proximity to the GCPD, no one seemed bothered even in the slightest. It felt oddly save to walk these streets among those maniacs. He felt almost protected by the crowd of rioters and looters. Jim just folded up the collar of his coat and hurried down the dark street until he came across the first of many looted shops. It was just a small neighborhood supermarket, it's windows busted and staring like empty holes into the night. There was still a part of him left that felt sorry for the owners of the supermarket but he entered it anyway, hopping through one of the broken windows and climbing carefully over the mess inside to avoid stepping on the shards of glass.

Of course, the store was already almost completely empty by this point but there was still enough for Jim to take so that he and Oswald could hold up a few more days in Ed Nygma’s apartment, if necessary. He was quick to collect a bunch of canned soups and bread and everything else he could get his fingers on in a big plastic bag he grabbed from the checkout. Of course, all the cash registers had been emptied out a long time ago.  

Not even ten minutes later, after fighting with another guy over a bag of grapes and knocking him unconscious in the process, he left the store again. His knuckles were freshly bruised and he had blood clinging to his face from where the other man had managed to land a punch aimed at his mouth. He couldn't deny that he felt good as he walked out into the streets with his loot and the grapes which he had ripped from the other guy’s hands. Maybe it was his inner caveman, wanting to provide for the person he loved and who needed him. Whatever it was, he liked the feeling.

Yet, the moment he started walking down the street, he grew more and more aware how little it mattered to him that he just robbed a store and knocked a guy out cold for a bag of grapes. It should matter to him. It didn't though and that was the point, he assumed. It _didn't_ matter. He _didn't_ care.

He didn't care either, as he found another looted store, a clothes store, with smashed windows and a hysterical employee behind the cash register. He walked straight into the shop with his plastic bag while a bunch of women were fighting over a seemingly expensive handbag. Inside the store, it was like a war zone but Jim was shouldering his way past the other customers quickly.

There was no plan to what he was getting except for the big canvas duffle bag. He had no idea what size Oswald was so, in the end, he grabbed most clothes in his own size. Oswald was not that much shorter than him, though very much more slender and thinner than Jim himself, especially after everything he had been through these last months. He would need to do without his expensive suits for now but surely, in time, Oswald would be able to buy a new assortment of the most expensive suits. In the past, he had never dared to admit it, but Oswald Cobblepot looked damn fine in those custom tailored Italian suits. Oswald clearly dressed to impress and that he had always achieved - at least in Jim’s eyes. Just for Oswald, he threw in as many dress shirts as he could grab.

He was in and out of the shop just like that with a duffle bag full of fresh new clothes and a plastic bag full of food for Oswald and him. Next on the agenda was money but that could wait a few more hours. Undoubtedly, Gotham would be in uproar for a few days longer. And though it would have been easy to steal from cash registers all over the place during this chaos as far as they wouldn't have been looted already, he and Oswald needed not just a couple of hundred dollars. They needed serious cash to start a new life.

He had an idea for that but not tonight. Not with the police all over the place. This would change in a little while. The focal point would soon shift from the inner city to the outskirts, not to mention to the control points at the bridges and train stations as soon as the riots died down a little.

This night the only important thing was Oswald and to get him back on track. It had started to snow again as Jim hurried down the streets. He had almost arrived back at Edward’s house, the old factory which had been converted into apartments. As he rounded the next corner, he could already see the bright big green neon sign that was attached to the facade of the building and the cause for the ethereal green light always present in Ed’s apartment.

»Hey!« He didn't know what it was about the voice echoing through the street but, in the end, he whirled around to face the person. A part of him expected to see a cop but it was just some random guy in a parker with a baseball cap. Nothing special about him. Undoubtedly, he had been one of those who had used this chaos to their advantage and soon, as the man stepped closer and into the light of a streetlamp, he could see the telltale veins popping around his eyes. He was infected but where this thought might have unnerved Jim in the past, all it did now was to serve as a form of excitement. There was no question about where this was headed either. This man was not going for a friendly chat with him. He could see it in his eyes that he had only one single goal in his mind and Jim was not at all opposed to it either. »Aren't you that cop? Gordon?«

»And what if I am?«

The man grinned. »You busted me last year. Caught me stealing from a street vendor. I spent three months in Blackgate!«

»You shouldn't have stolen then.«

»I was hungry!«

»Try working next time.«

The other man breathed a laugh as he came closer still. Jim saw the flash of silver a bit too late as the man suddenly surged forward for the attack. His reaction came a bit too slow and thus the stranger managed to nick his side with the blade of his knife. He didn't even feel any pain as it happened just the thrill of the impending fight as he momentarily dropped his bags and went into the attack. The stranger had no chance against a trained cop, of course.

It was easy for Jim to overpower him and wrestle the other man to the ground as he threw punch after punch, aiming straight for Jim’s face. He had no chance and that knowledge filled him with a feeling of great satisfaction and power - a feeling that would have scared the socks off of him in the past but now he could only feel the rush of blood and excitement in his veins as he wrestled the man to the ground and plummeted his fist into his face again and again. Grabbing the knife from him was easy and even easier it was to ram it into his stomach once, twice … He lost count at one point. He felt nothing but satisfaction as he got up again and felt the hot blood of the stranger clinging to his hands. He didn't drop the knife. It was evidence and he was not stupid enough to leave evidence behind. Furthermore, he could use a few more weapons.

His heart was still pounding like mad as he returned to the apartment and barged through the door, leaving behind the mess he’d made out in the streets as if this man was not even a human being, as if it didn't mean anything. Oswald jolted upright in the bed immediately, startled by the sound even before the door slammed shut again. He seemed even paler than before as he looked at Jim now. »Jim!« His name was like a prayer on Oswald's lips. »What happened?« He couldn't keep Oswald from jumping out of the bed as quickly as he was able to. »Are you hurt? I told you it was dangerous out there, Jim!«

It was the same rush of excitement that he had felt only minutes ago from shedding this stranger’s blood as he now experienced just because Oswald was at his side, patting his hands over Jim’s chest and his face etched in deep worry lines as he was searching for any kind of damage to the man he loved. Maybe it was a little presumptuous of him to assume that Oswald loved him and yet, deep down inside, he had always known that this was true.

It was then that he let the bags fall to the ground once more so that he had his hands free to put them on Oswald's jaw and to pull him in for a deep kiss. It was sloppy and rushed and hungry, all tongue and teeth until Oswald was breathless and had to withdraw with flushed cheeks. »You should see the other guy.« Jim smirked. His hands remained on both sides of Oswald's face, cupping his slim jaw before he leaned in for yet another kiss, tainting his white skin with the blood on his hands. This time the kiss was a lot slower and softer. He didn't wish to spook Oswald again and yet, the way Oswald stood here in front of him, half-naked and his blue eyes focused only on him, all he could think about was to roam his hands all over Oswald's body.

»You are hurt.« Oswald mumbled between kisses as his fingers had found the tear in his jacket where the knife had cut him. This time, Oswald would not let himself get distracted again by another kiss as he was already shoving the jacket off Jim’s shoulders. He let Oswald proceed in getting him out of his clothes for now so that the smaller man could assess the damage to Jim’s side.

»Sit down … Come on, you big useless slop.« Oswald mumbled and those were probably the worst words he could come up with at the moment. At least they drew a smile from Jim as he allowed Oswald to lead him to the bed and forced him to sit down on the edge. It felt all so normal as if Oswald and he would have done this before. Oswald was kneeling in front of him on the ground to have better access to his wound. He was working quick as he cleaned the blood from his side and careful as he was dabbing disinfectant on the wound although Jim did not even flinch a bit. »You are very lucky that you don’t need stitches.« Oswald concluded before patching Jim up carefully with a bit of gauze and a bandage that he wrapped tightly around his middle.

»I wouldn't mind if you would poke me with a needle.« Jim replied with a smirk as he looked down on Oswald. He could get used to seeing him on his knees in front of him, actually. Much more even if he imagined his sweet little mouth wrapped around-

»Is everything okay? You are not getting a fever, right?« Oswald’s stormy blue eyes looked up at him with so much concern it almost made his heartache.

»I just thought how much time we wasted.« He mumbled and gently coaxed Oswald to stand again only so that he could pull him on his lap the next moment and drew a startled yelp from him in the process. »And that I don't wanna wait a minute longer anymore.«

He wondered how the old Oswald would have reacted, this Oswald allowed him to throw him on the bed without much fuss. This Oswald melted into his touch as he traced a line down his chest with his mouth. This Oswald moaned as he drew his tongue over every bit of muscle, every dip and raise on his torso and explored what had always been hidden beneath layers and layers of clothes before. Now there was nothing in the way anymore. Already he had gotten rid of that annoying towel and thrown it carelessly to the ground with his own pants and boxer shorts soon to follow.

It hadn't been long after he had Oswald first on his lap that they were both naked in Ed’s bed. Oswald was not resisting in the slightest and though he still seemed confused by Jim's sudden interest in him, he did not seem motivated to voice any objections to all of this. Quite the contrary, actually. His legs fell open all too willingly for Jim to slither between them.

He wanted to take his time. Wanted to enjoy the loud thumping of his heart inside his chest, the rushing of the blood and the virus in his ears. Jim was quick to realize how sensitive Oswald's legs were as he moved lower and lower on him, mouthing kisses along his left leg carefully before he bit down as he almost reached his knee on the skin of his inner thigh, drawing a moan from Oswald in the process. Oswald's breathing became faster the lower he had gone on him, excitement and arousal were already overwhelming the former mobster. He didn't want to think too much about whether or not Oswald had experienced something like this before. It would just ruin his mood if he would.

The moment he reached Oswald's cock it became obvious how much self-control it really cost the smaller man not to dig his fingers into Jim's scalp but rather claw at the sheets beneath him. He was slow and took his time as he dragged his tongue over the shaft of Oswald's cock from base to tip. He might not have much experience in this regard but he had sucked a few cocks in his lifetime - enough to give Oswald a good time, at the very least and judging by the deep moan he drew from Oswald, he succeeded in this too. At the same time, Jim reached up with his right hand until he found Oswald's lips and pressed his fingers against them. Luckily, Oswald was quick to realize what he wanted from him and opened his mouth all too willingly.

He pressed his fingers against his waiting tongue as Oswald seemed eager to flick his tongue around them while Jim was busy placing open-mouthed kisses along his erection before he brushed his tongue over the tip, enjoying how he tensed noticeably and let out a shuddering breath against the fingers still in Oswald's mouth. Quickly, Oswald rewarded him for what he did as he began sucking on Jim’s fingers in earnest, sending a spark down his spine and straight into his groin as he marveled at the sight. Seeing Oswald Cobblepot, the King of Gotham, undone like this, gasping and moaning around his fingers, was truly something he would not easily forget.

Only then did Jim open his mouth and drew in the tip of Oswald's cock, lowering his lips inch by inch to engulf him completely into the heat of his mouth. Jim only slowly, as slowly as he was dragging his tongue over the underside of Oswald’s cock, pulled his fingers out of Oswald's mouth. His eyes were glassy as Oswald looked down on him and his cheeks flushed. Jim didn't take much time, though, as he gently nudged Oswald's legs even farther apart and directed the wet fingers between his legs and up to his ass.

There was still no objection from Oswald as he pushed with his middle finger against the tight ring of muscle before breaching it swiftly, earning a shocked gasped from Oswald as he did. He was eager to make Oswald forget the initial pain as he pushed his cock with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. But Oswald only threw back his head into the pillow and clenched the sheets tighter with bony white fingers.

This was how Jim chose to work him open. He was slow, even though it urged him to get a move on and claim Oswald as his once and for all. He could hardly hold himself back even a second longer and yet, just taking Oswald would be no good especially since Edward Nygma apparently did not possess the foresight to store any kind of lubricant or condoms in his apartment. Then again, why would he? Of course, he could not deny that the fact that they were doing this in Ed’s bed excited him. It felt a little like payback for everything Ed had put him through. Every time he added a finger, he intensified his ministrations of Oswald's cock and Oswald rewarded him every time with another deep moan or hoarse little scream. He was already so far gone in pleasure that he didn't realize how Jim took his fingers out after a while and only as Jim withdrew his mouth too did Oswald open his electric blue eyes again to meet Jim’s.

»Please, Jim« He urged. »I can't wait any longer.« At least he had not lost his impatience in Arkham.

Here they were now, just two guys melting into one another and becoming one slowly as Jim finally had enough and lowered himself onto Oswald, eager to feel his body flush against his own as close as possible while he dragged the already leaking tip of his until now ignored cock over Oswald’s entrance. It was meant as a small tease before he then carefully entered the smaller man on the bed. Suddenly, it didn't matter anymore who they had been before or who they were now. They were not Oswald Cobblepot, head of the underworld and Detective Jim Gordon at this moment and place. Their past didn't matter, their circumstances didn't matter, not even the fact that Jim was carrying the virus or that Oswald had lost a part of himself. They were together and that was the only thing that did truly matter.

With each inch that Jim drove into Oswald slowly, Jim started to feel more and more at peace with himself again. The voices in his head seemed to die down a little and for a moment he felt like the old Jim again - at least in parts.

He tried to distract Oswald as he bit his neck or drove his tongue over his milk-white skin and his so deliciously exposed throat. He didn't want to hurt Oswald and yet there was no resistance. Every bit of tension seemed to melt away the deeper Jim went as if Oswald's body recognized him and knew that this was how it meant to be from the start. It definitely felt like it. He felt as if he had finally arrived where he was meant to be.

Oswald was eager to pull him in even deeper as he wrapped his thin legs around Jim’s hips, allowing him to slide in even more now until he couldn't go possibly any deeper. He was certain that this position had to hurt Oswald's bad leg and yet the younger man showed no signs of it as if he had forgotten all about it. They were both not in the best shapes and the wound in his side was itching and aching as he began to move inside of Oswald. It didn't matter, though. All that mattered was Oswald and how he buried his short nails in Jim's back as he was desperately searching for something to cling to now.

The thought alone that Oswald's nails would leave marks on him drew a moan out of his throat. For a long moment, he stayed like this, his chest flushed against Oswald's as he moved gently inside of him but then he sat up straight and pulled Oswald at the hips closer towards him. As he dragged his fingers over his tights he felt the twitching of his muscles and the vibrant energy surging through Oswald despite everything he had experienced on this fateful day.

He was amazed by the way in which Oswald bit down on his lower lips, his eyes trailing down from Jim's face over his naked chest and stomach and further down as if he desperately wanted to see how Jim and he were joined, almost as if he needed to see to believe it.

There was a deep-seated hunger in him as he began to thrust into Oswald in earnest now, holding him only by his narrow hips. And as Oswald grabbed onto the metal frame of the headboard of the bed for support, it only drove him more insane. Quickly, his thrusts became harder and Oswald's response to it louder and more and more unhinged. It became clear that Oswald enjoyed it rough. A part of him wanted to believe that this was the old Oswald shining through.

Had his face been relaxed before, now his brows were furrowed,  his forehead covered in deep wrinkles and sweat dripping out of his hair. It was on Jim now to close his eyes and enjoy the tightness of Oswald's body, the twitching, the moaning and the way Oswald's body was so welcoming to his.

Oswald was gorgeous at this moment. He had always been pretty in a way. He was not pretty by society's standards, he was as far removed from perfect as possible with his beak-like nose and the oddly scattered freckles, his destroyed leg and his thin stature. But to Jim he was stunningly beautiful as he lay there beneath him, his whole body covered in a thin layer of sweat, his cheeks and ears flushed from exhaustion and his blue eyes glassy from lust. He couldn't keep his hands from roaming over Oswald's sides up to his chest again and again before he gently squeezed his nipples between thumb and index finger and forced a startled little gasp from Oswald.

Again, there was something that Jim could only describe as a bit of the old Oswald coming through as Jim was suddenly shoved back on his ass only for Oswald to move quickly on his lap again. The position was much more intimate than before. There was not an inch of space between them. Their chests flushed together closely. He felt Oswald's erection dig into his stomach and his hot breath against his face.

For a moment they remained like this, just intertwined in their embrace before Oswald took one hand between their bodies to guide Jim’s cock back inside. It became pretty clear to Jim that he had underestimated Oswald - or rather this new version of him. His hands moved on their own as he shoved them under Oswald's ass and started massaging those perfect globes just as Oswald started moving again. He was skilled, much more than he would have expected, as he let Jim almost slip out all the way only to reclaim him inch by agonizing inch again and again.

Jim tried to bite back a moan but he failed as he angled his face upwards to catch Oswald's mouth. They moved as one as Oswald leaned back just a bit into Jim's hands to start moving in earnest. The rush of it all was something Jim would never be able to forget. For once, there was nothing left in his mind but Oswald and his tightness and how good it felt to be inside of him, how pleasing Oswald's moans sounded in his ears whenever his cock managed to brush up against his prostate. He had wasted so much time with those women he had chased in the past when the real thing had always been right in front of him this whole entire time.

He did his best to prolong the experience. He didn't want it to end too soon and yet he could do nothing about it as Oswald climaxed and tightened even further around him, contracting almost violent and pushing him over the edge right away.

As they later lay together in Ed Nygma’s bed barely covered with a blanket and still intertwined in each others embrace, Jim felt at peace. He was calmer than he had ever been before - even before the virus.

»It was about time.« Jim found himself mumbling after what felt like hours of content silence between them, his lips close to Oswald's forehead before he placed a kiss on his skin instead.

»What happened to you, Jim?« The question had been bound to come again and he deserved to hear the truth, even though Jim would much rather not talk about it right now but smother Oswald with kisses instead.

»It was Lee.« He began quietly and with a resigned sigh. »She injected herself with the virus. I have no idea what moved her to do that. Perhaps it was guilt about her husband's death. Maybe she was thinking that she should have been the one to be infected with the virus originally and not Mario. Anyway, she managed to knock me out as I went to her. She put me in a coffin and into a shallow grave, giving me only the option to die inside the coffin or infecting myself too.« He paused for a moment, suddenly acutely aware of Oswald's horrified look as he stared at him out of huge blue eyes. »I didn't want to do it. I’d rather die than that. However, as I figured out where the bomb would be and lost my connection to Harvey, I had no other choice if I wanted to prevent this from happening. Needless to say, I failed.«

»You did what you could.« Oswald whispered and brushed his fingers over his cheek as if he would really believe that. Then again, knowing Oswald and not just this new tamer and kinder version of the mobster with that eerie smile that seemed to be his new default expression, he probably really believed that.

»I did.« Jim agreed quietly. »And now the GCPD is looking for me.«

»Why?« The question was so quiet it was more the ghost of one than a real question.

»I punched Harvey.« He smirked although they both knew that this would never be a good reason for the rest of the GCPD nor Harvey to truly pursue Jim. Everyone had punched Harvey at one point and those who had not yet done so secretly wanted to do it. »And I don't want them to cure me. They are working on a new antidote with the help of Professor Strange - but I don't want it.«

Oswald tensed just slightly at the mention of his former tormentor. »Why don't you want to be cured?«

»I never felt so alive, Oswald.« Jim replied instantly with a smile. »I never felt so much like myself.«

»But what do you want to do now?« Oswald whispered as Jim rolled onto his back and dragged Oswald with him so that his head came resting on his chest. »How do you want to avoid them? If Harvey is on the hunt for you because he thinks he helps you … He will find you.«

»That's why we have to leave Gotham.«

»We?«

»Of course, we. Or do you really think I am ever letting you go again now that I finally have you?« The smile that spread over Oswald's face was almost too sweet to really belong to Oswald Cobblepot - no matter which version of the man. »But first … I am going to have to rob a bank.«

 

**-End of Chapter 4-**


	5. Chapter 5

Oswald was not a fan of the idea. Of course, he wasn't. The old Oswald would have applauded him for the idea to rob a bank but this new Oswald was abhorred by everything that was even the slightest bit against the law. The plan was certainly not perfect but it was not meant to be and he was not a professional bank robber either. He didn't care anyway. He didn't mean to sneak into the vault in the middle of the night and go in and out unnoticed. He had a gun and that was really all he needed at this point.

He didn't necessarily mean to harm anyone but he wasn't opposed to the idea either. In fact, as he entered the bank, he did not care if he would traumatize the young woman behind the counter or if she would end up dead at the end of this. He was wearing the clothes that he had stolen and had the lower half of his face hidden behind a bandana. His masquerade was probably not very good but Oswald had given him one of Edward’s sunglasses and a baseball cap and he was waiting for him in Edward’s flat, hoping that Jim would come back to him in one piece.

It was just this one thing he had to get over and done with and then he and Oswald would leave Gotham for good - as soon as they would have their new documents, of course.

He felt nothing as he walked up to the counter and faced the young woman behind it. He felt nothing as he pointed his gun at her and threw his empty duffle bag at her. Almost she dropped it and there was a part of him that hoped that she would make a fuss, that _someone_ would make a fuss. It was easy. It was maybe even a little too easy for his taste. He would have liked a bit of a fight, the thrill he had expected. He was disappointed as there was no struggle, as there was no fight and no crying and no gun being pointed at him during the ordeal. He was disappointed as the young woman gave him back a full duffle bag again and let him leave as if he was just a regular customer, as if she was already numb to the experience, maybe even used to being robbed.

This was Gotham, he had to remind himself. Even before the virus, bank robberies were normal in this city. This girl probably had experience in this regard. The thought was almost disappointing and the monster in the depth of his stomach was craning its head and growling in anger. He had hoped for something more than that. He had hoped for a fight, a bit of a struggle, someone who wanted to play the hero, perhaps. There were no heroes left in Gotham now.  

That was why, as the security guard at the door decided to finally step forward to stop Jim from leaving the bank, his gun drawn with shaking hands, Jim did not hesitate to shoot him. He couldn't deny that the sound of the screams behind him was like music to his ears as the old man slumped to the ground with a wet little groan and the ugly monster that was the virus rejoiced and cheered him on. The monster inside was hungry for even more blood. That was when the alarm went off and Jim had to start running.

※※※※※※※

He didn't like the idea of Jim Gordon going into some random bank and robbing it like one of the many random thieves in this town. That was just not who Jim was supposed to be. Jim Gordon was supposed to be a paradigm of goodness and righteousness in this city. And yet it was Jim's wish to do so and he had good arguments too. Jim was right, they needed to get out of Gotham if they wanted to stay together and for that, they needed money and loads more than they actually had for Jim could not possibly withdraw large amounts of money from his bank account - not in their current situation. Of course, that wouldn't be the case would Jim accept the cure and return to his old self but he understood what Jim had meant before.

He liked this new version of himself and just like Oswald did not want to return to his old self, Jim did not want to return to his old self. As Jim’s boyfriend, he had to accept that. Boyfriend … Hell, that sounded still so weird, even in his own head. But that was the truth, wasn't it? They were together now, a couple, a real one. And he loved Jim. He loved all of him. The good and the bad and even what the virus made of him, even the darkness inside of him. He had always seen this darkness that he had been so desperate to hide from everyone else. He would never condemn Jim Gordon not even when Jim would start robbing banks and killing people left and right. He knew that Jim would never force him to go back to his old ways or join him on his new path either. The least he could do was to pay him back that same favor.

Despite the fact that he did not like it, he still helped Jim to get his masquerade on before he left and even gave a pair of Edward’s large sunglasses to him so that no one would see his eyes at the very least. They had spent the entire morning in bed until Jim had decided he was ready to go, making plans and imagining how their future would play out now that they were together at last while outside the world had been smothered in snow. Oswald would have liked it to stay this way forever, just him and the man he loved in this bed, intertwined in a tight embrace. He didn't need any more than this.

Ever since he had first met Jim, he had dreamed of nothing but that. For the longest time, he had desperately wanted to be at least a part of Jim’s life no matter what this might look like. He had been perfectly content being someone Jim wanted to put behind bars, being a criminal, being someone Jim maybe came to when he needed help with something concerning the underworld. He had succeeded in that for sure and yet it had never been enough. He had always wanted more, always wanted to be more than just that. Friends, perhaps. Never would he have dreamed of becoming more than that. But he had loved him desperately and now that he had gotten what he wanted, suddenly he couldn't believe it.

He waited for the other shoe to drop. This could not possibly be real, could it?

It seemed all like a dream, even as he had kissed Jim goodbye at the door and closed it behind him, even as he had started packing another bag that he had grabbed from Ed’s closet to fill it with the supplies Jim had stolen last night. When Jim would return from his robbery, he needed to be ready. Ready to leave the city with him. Before now he had never even considered leaving Gotham for good. He had been born in this city and he had always thought that he would find his end in this city too. He had always loved Gotham dearly and yet, if it meant he would be able to be with the person he loved forever, he would gladly leave everything behind and forget it all.

What was this city anyway? It was a cesspool of depravity and chaos. Behind every corner, some new evil seemed to wait for its chance to strike. He didn't want that anymore. He wanted Jim and nothing more. And to have that, he hurried to get showered and dressed and organize everything they needed. He still knew where they could go for new documents and he made the call as he had promised Jim he would, despite how he felt about it. His former ties to the seedy underbelly of Gotham had it's good sides too even though he would much rather not employ them.

Oswald did everything he could to take his mind off of his worries about Jim and how he was faring out there. He had switched on the TV only shortly to get an idea of what was going on. There was still chaos ruling the city but it was as Jim had said. The focus now lay on the brides and train stations. Throughout the last night, the entire GCPD had been occupied with making numerous arrests while hundreds had been killed in the streets.

He couldn't stand the images on the screen. All of this was just awful. Blood in the streets, people that behaved more like crazed animals than human beings, attacking their neighbors, their friends, their families, stealing, raping, killing all over the city. Had Jim not found him … he didn't want to think about it. He would most probably be dead. And though he was still weak, at least he had food in his belly and his injuries had been treated. Much rather he would hole himself up in Edward Nygma’s comfortable bed but he had to move on from here, had to gather his strength and prove to Jim that he could rely on him. He needed to be courageous now and he could be.

Yet, the more time passed and the later Jim’s return became, the more anxious Oswald grew too. He was already half an hour late, as there was a knock on the door. Once, twice, thrice. Oswald hurried to the door to rip it open and the moment he did so, he felt strong arms close around his middle and a hot mouth on his own pressing him against the wall next to the door before he could even realize what was happening.

He was left breathless by the kiss as Jim allowed them to part for just a moment before he pressed his lips onto his once more and quickly moved on to his neck, biting and licking his skin and making his knees buckle underneath him.

»We don't have time…« He heard himself murmur with great pity as he held onto Jim at the same time, unwilling to let go of him, unwilling to stop this right away. Who knew what would happen to them would they step out of that door together. Who knew if Jim and he would not immediately be separated. He wanted to stay like this forever. He wanted to never stop kissing him, to never stop touching him, to never escape Jim’s embrace now that he had him at last.

»I know.« Jim groaned against the skin of his throat where he buried his face for a moment before he finally let go of Oswald for good. »I know.« He repeated but brushed his thumb over Oswald’s bottom lip gently. »I needed this.«

Needless to say that those words alone had the quality to make his knees even weaker and his heart beat louder in his chest. Instead of showing how big of an effect Jim’s words had on him, however, he patted his shoulders and forced Jim to take a step back. »Did you do it?«

»I did.« Jim grinned as he dropped the duffle bag in his left hand to the ground. It sounded heavy as it fell to the ground. »Now we only need to conceal it.«

※※※※※※※

Oswald didn't feel comfortable and Jim could clearly see that as they later walked through the streets of Gotham. He had thought about stealing Edward’s car but then decided against it - just in case. It was not the danger they were in as they were moving through those streets that made Oswald uncomfortable and Jim knew this too. It was the stolen money, it was the fact that he now knew that Jim had shot a security guard to obtain and keep the money.

He didn't want to be involved in anything criminal and yet there was no way around it. They both knew this too. They would lead a life on the run from now on, like Bonnie and Clyde, just the two of them against the rest of the world. It would be easier would Oswald be his old self but he would never force this upon him just as Oswald would not force the cure to the virus upon him either. They had not talked about it until now, but Jim was sure that Oswald felt the same way as he about this.

Getting new documents was not hard at all, thanks to Oswald’s knowledge about the criminal underworld and the contacts he had. He was not happy to go down that road with Jim and even stayed back as Jim walked into the bar where the man he needed to talk to waited for them. Oswald had made the call, yes, but Jim had to go in and collect their new IDs. In fact, Jim had the feeling as if it was almost painful for Oswald to do anything that went against his new beliefs.

He had noticed it before, actually. The way he would flinch as if hit by an electric shock whenever Jim forced him to do something that was, in Oswald’s eyes, bad. He would not talk about his time in Arkham. They had spent hours talking last night and all throughout the morning whenever they had not screwed each other silly. Yet, no matter how Jim had asked him about it, Oswald had just shut down with that pleasant little smile on his lips that was so eerie.

He had talked about the other patients a bit, about the food and about Professor Strange but he would not talk about his treatment there. He didn't need to either, Jim decided as they strolled down the streets hand in hand towards the train station. He didn't need to hear the details. Oswald’s behavior spoke volumes already especially now after everything Jim knew about Professor Strange and his experiments. To him, it was no secret that Oswald had been through hell and back in Arkham. He had probably even been programmed to react physically in a negative way to anything that could be considered bad and thus Jim didn't want to put this strain on him too much. Already Oswald seemed plagued by a terrible headache and that not just because of his head injury or the lack of sleep.

The night hung low above Gotham already as they were hurrying to catch one of the last trains leaving the city for those who were not infected. Jim paused for just a moment inside the lobby of the train station where people were buying their tickets and then hurried through the gates to go through the security checkpoints before mounting the last train out of Gotham.

»Only two ways, Oz.« He mumbled quietly as he pulled the man at his left side tighter, one arm wrapped possessively around his waist. It was easy to give himself the appearance of a young man desperate to get himself and the man he loved out of the city because of the chaos reigning supreme behind them. »We either go the long way around, buy tickets, go through the check and hope for the best or we ditch all of that and go through the staff area. This way we would come out right behind the security checks … We would only have to get rid of one guard.«

He knew that Oswald didn't like the idea even before Oswald could voice his disdain for it. He looked pained as Jim looked at his face even though it was not all too easy to tell the way Oswald was wearing his thick green scarf pulled up over his mouth and nose against the cold. It was one of Ed’s. He didn't like it that Oswald had taken a souvenir from the man who had put Jim in jail but it was the best they’ve got. In the short amount of time they had had to come up with a disguise, there wasn't much they had been able to do. Getting a hold of colored contact lenses for them both had been easy enough and though he already missed the striking blue of Oswald’s bright eyes, it was a necessary evil because unlike Jim, they weren't able to change much about Oswald’s jet-black hair, after all.

Still, Oswald had outdone himself. Sure, he still looked like Oswald to Jim, but strangers wouldn't recognize him right away at least. He was wearing his hair even messier than the night he had found him with a woolen hat pulled down deep into his forehead. It was longer ever since he had last seen him in Arkham and fell into his face softly, making him appear even younger, not to mention that it was already slightly curling at the ends here and there.

In the new set of clothes, he looked even smaller and thinner than usual. Jim had never seen him in a pair of jeans before, let alone a simple woolen coat against the cold. Underneath the coat, he was dressed in a dark purple cardigan and a white button-down shirt. He looked almost ridiculously normal in this assortment and his now brown eyes only added to this utter display of averageness. Hiding his limp had been a lot harder but with Oswald pretty much glued to his left side and them walking slowly, no one would be able to see how Oswald was dragging his right leg.

»We can do this, Jim, we don't have to hurt anyone.« Jim himself had opted for a more casual, Saturday afternoon look. He was wearing a simple dark blue hoodie underneath his black coat, a pair of jeans he had stolen from the shop and sneakers. The baseball cap he was wearing at least hid his dark blonde hair and the brown lenses should hide the effects of the virus at least enough to go through that checkpoint.

A sharp nod later, Jim was already dragging Oswald with him towards one of the ticket booths. They had hidden the money from the bank robbery in their clothes and inside their duffle bags underneath everything, they had stolen in terms of clothing articles. Oswald smiled anxiously at the cashier but the elderly woman probably took his anxiousness the same way she took everyone else's anxiousness who was coming through here. To her, they were just a normal couple, eager to save themselves and get out of here as quickly as possible.

Jim let Oswald handle the ticket purchase. He felt impatient and uneasy and only wanted to get the woman behind the counter to hurry up. She, however, smiled fondly at them as she gave the tickets to Oswald and Jim was quick to drag them through the gate.

It was their luck that the security checks were manned not by actual members of the GCPD but the regular security personnel of the train station, a bunch of nervous-looking men that hurriedly checked IDs and passports and the eyes of the people in front of them. Officers would have recognized Jim right away for sure. As it was their turn, they were quick to hand out the false documents and show their tickets and after one long probing glance in their eyes with a flashlight, they were let go. It was then, as Jim and Oswald were almost through the second gate, that Jim heard the voice he had dreaded to hear all this time.

»Jim!«

He wanted to run, but Oswald kept him calm as he was walking on as if nothing had happened. As long as they would not start running or react in any way, no one around them would realize that Harvey Bullock meant them. This way, calmly, they managed to go through the second gate before they started running. He had expected Harvey to find them. In a way, he had known that it would come to this, that his former best friend would not so easily let him leave without a showdown. Harvey had always hated Oswald’s guts. Maybe this situation would be different, would it be Lee at his side now. Maybe he would even let them both go, infected or not. But the sole fact that he was with Oswald now seemed to have sparked something in Harvey.

»Jim!« The shout came again. »Jim! Stop! Jim!« Oswald was unable to keep up with him no matter how much he tried and Jim knew this. Still, Jim kept Oswald’s hand tightly in his own and pulled him along. They were still too slow and even a man like Harvey Bullock would be able to catch up with them even in a crowd as this. »Move aside! Police! Move! Move!«

For a second, he wanted to stop and urge Oswald into the train without him, tell him that he would catch up with him as they ran hand in hand but then suddenly, Oswald's hand slipped out of his grasp as a group of terrified strangers broke them apart. It was chaos after this and for what felt like an eternity, Jim had lost sight of his boyfriend. Almost he had not caught his eyes as he finally found him in the crowd, the people between them like an insurmountable wall. »Go, Jim!« Oswald suddenly bellowed just as Jim caught his eyes that were now brown yet still unmistakably Oswald’s.

»What?«

»Go, he wants to stop you, don't let that happen! I buy you some time! I catch up with you!«

He didn't want to go but Harvey was already close and Oswald was right. In the thick crowd of people, it would be easy for Jim to slip aboard one of the two trains and hide out inside until Oswald would find him. Harvey would do everything in his power to stop him. Already, he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked and of people gasping in horror as they quickly moved out of the way. He stole one last lingering glance at Oswald before he started running again.

He didn't get very far until he heard Oswald’s surprised yelp and saw how he stumbled and lost his footing on the slippery ground after all those other people had carried fresh snow and mud with them inside. Before Oswald could even try to get back to his feet, Harvey had reached Oswald and pulled the former mobster to his feet and against his torso. By now the scarf had long slipped from Oswald’s face and he had lost his woolen hat during his fall.

»Jim!« This time his voice was much more commanding and calm. Harvey had grabbed Oswald and he knew that he held all the cards now. He knew that he had the one thing Jim desired the most at this moment in time. As he slowly turned around completely to face his former friend and ally, Harvey had one arm wrapped around Oswald’s front and his gun pointed at Jim. The look on Oswald’s face was almost indescribable. He looked afraid, yes, but Jim could not quite determine what he was afraid of.

»You gonna shoot me, Harvey?« He tried to keep his voice calm and level to not further scare Oswald. Already his eyes were darting between Jim and Harvey back and forth, his adam's apple bobbing thickly as he swallowed down his panic.

»This isn't you!«

»It is.«

»Please don't make me do this!« Harvey yelled back across the platform. By now, most of the strangers around had quickly entered the waiting trains to get out of the way. However, the moment as Jim started moving again, this time towards Harvey, his old friend seemed to have a change of heart as he first lowered the gun just a bit and then quickly pressed the muzzle directly against Oswald’s head. There was an unspoken rage in Harvey’s face as he pointed his gun at Oswald, an innocent man in this situation. Sure, Jim had killed an innocent man today, but this was something different. Harvey was not supposed to stoop so low. Maybe in Harvey’s eyes, Oswald was no innocent man, though, but the root of all the troubles they had faced since they first met Oswald. Still, he was not dealing with the Penguin, at this moment. It was Oswald. Just Oswald and this Oswald was silently begging Harvey to spare him. There was a deep grudge, an old wound that made his former friend do this. It didn't change a thing about Jim’s reaction, though, as he dropped the duffle bag in his right hand and pulled out his own gun to point at Harvey. They had been looking for infected people, not weapons at the security check.

»Oswald and I belong together.« He all but growled those words but Harvey did not waver.

»I know.« He replied a lot calmer now, maybe even resigned. »And if you don't come with me, if you don't accept the cure, you can live alone as a monster because I am going to blow his brains out, Jim. I will. This little freak has done enough damage already ever since we first met him. You should've put a bullet in him a long time ago. I would be doing you a favor, Jim.«

»Please … Detective Bullock!« All Oswald’s plea achieved was to further aggravate the detective as Harvey nudged the muzzle almost violently against Oswald’s temple. »I've changed!«

»Listen, Jim, I know how bad you want that! How bad you want to forget what happened, but it's not real!«

»I am going to shoot you, Harvey.« It was not a threat and his former partner knew this too. »Let go of him. Let us leave. You will never see us again. But keep your gun a second longer on him and I will shoot you.«

There was a moment of hesitation in Harvey before he slowly lowered his gun and then shoved Oswald forward. Again, he almost lost his footing but Jim was quick enough to catch him before he could fall. For a brief instant, no longer than a heartbeat, he had expected Harvey to shoot both of them right that second but he didn't. Quickly, Jim handed both the bags to Oswald, after Oswald had dropped his bag on the ground as he had fallen before, and brushed his fingers gently over his cheek. »Go.« He whispered before he pressed another kiss to Oswald’s temple where the muzzle had been just seconds before.

Oswald hesitated for another moment as he looked back over his shoulder to Bullock as if he was inclined to say something to the seasoned cop, maybe even words of regret towards their relationship. Jim knew that, would Oswald say another thing to Bullock, that Harvey would shoot him. So, in the end, Oswald just nodded and finally let go of him. At the door of the train, he paused again and looked over at Jim, worry etched clearly in his features before he finally got aboard the train. Jim lingered no longer than this before he bridged the distance between Harvey and him. With one swift move, he had wrestled the gun from Harvey's hands and all but thrown his former partner against the side of the train.

The growl he let out was that of a wild beast. »That is who I am Harvey! This is who I’ve always been! I should kill you right now for even putting a hand on him!«

»No, it's not!« Harvey shouted back and Jim knew that he was trying to get him to lower his guard, to distract Jim just long enough to strike as Jim held him tightly by the lapels of his ugly brown trench coat. »Who you are is a choice! It always has been - it always will.« His heart was thumping loudly in his chest, beating like crazy against his rib cage and his pulse was pounding in his ears. He couldn't think straight, couldn't see clearly. He needed to kill. Needed to shed blood. No, he _wanted_ to kill. There was a difference in that. He _wanted_ to kill Harvey.

He wanted to let go of his frustration and all his anger he had felt throughout the years towards his partner. The partner who had so willingly jumped into bed with the mob just to keep his head out of trouble. The partner who had so carelessly killed some criminal years ago without a second thought and had expected the same from Jim too. The partner who had always been in the way, always between Jim and the man he loved. The partner who had made it impossible for Jim to realize that it was Oswald. That it had always been Oswald. And yet, as he screamed at Harvey, he did not thunder his fist into his face but into the side of the train and left a deep dent in the metal. He could easily kill him now. He was stronger than Harvey. The virus made him strong. Strong enough to throw a grown and heavy man like Harvey through the air as if he was a Raggedy Anne doll.

»This is who you are!« Harvey breathed as he quickly pulled his own badge out of the inside pocket of his cheap suit and showed it to Jim. A long time ago, this badge had meant something to him but suddenly those days seemed an entire lifetime away. »You’re the best cop I’ve ever worked with. The best friend I’ve ever had. If you love Oswald, I am not going to hold you back anymore. I promise. But you can be with him even without the virus, Jim.«

Once more he drove his fist into the side of the train with a roar that seemed not even the slightest bit human anymore even to his own ears before he flung Harvey’s badge back at the older man and rose to his feet. »Stay away from us, Harvey - or else you would leave me no other choice but to kill you.«

As he walked away from Harvey slowly he was aware of the looks he was drawing towards himself from the passengers on board of the trains that had been watching the exchange through the windows but he didn't care. He had already reached the door of the train and climbed up the first stair, as Harvey Bullock managed to get back on his own feet again.

»You should have put a bullet in his head when you still had the chance, Jim.« There it was again, an old wound dragged back into the light by the events of the past few minutes. Hurt and resignation. Harvey had never forgiven him for sparing Oswald’s life and he would never understand how Jim felt for Oswald either.

»Goodbye, Harvey.«

 

**-End of Chapter 5-**


	6. Epilog

The train was crowded, the air inside thick and warm. People were chatting, it was loud and hectic as they were all scrambling inside and trying to find a place to sit while Jim was pushing past them. He found Oswald in one of the compartments just as the conductor was going around devaluating the tickets. As Jim slipped into the compartment, it felt as if the whole drama with Harvey had not even really happened, as if it had been nothing more than a movie he had just walked out of. This right here, Oswald in this tiny compartment in this old train, showing their tickets to the conductor, his smile at Jim before he wrapped his arms around his neck tightly, Oswald’s lips on his, that was the real thing. 

»I was so afraid he would kill you.« Oswald huffed against his lips as he stole kiss after kiss from him, desperate, needy.

»I love you.« Jim mumbled between kisses against his mouth without even thinking about it. »And I will always come back to you. We are free now.« And they would start something new somewhere new. Just the two of them against the rest of the world. 

※※※※※※※

As the train left the station, Oswald had already gotten rid of the colored contact lenses and so had Jim after he had sat down with him. Outside the night had swallowed the city and snow was falling in thick flakes all around them. It was a strange feeling to actually leave this town behind but at least he had Jim with him and they were alone in their compartment. For once there were no prying eyes on them, no one judging. Just the two of them in silence. 

»I never left Gotham before.« Oswald mumbled quietly as he leaned in closer into Jim’s side, his head on Jim's shoulder and Jim's arms wrapped tightly around him. It was impossible to tell what was going on inside of Jim’s head but a part of him was certain that he felt at least a little saddened by all of this too. The virus had changed him, yes, it had helped Jim to accept the darkness within, but it had not stolen away every other emotion. This city had meant a great deal to Jim too. He had just cut ties not only with his job and true calling in life but with his best friend too. And for what? For him?

»You will like it where we are going.« Jim hummed as he pressed a kiss to the crown of Oswald's head. They had not talked about where they would go and as far as Oswald was concerned he didn't care anyway. No matter where Jim would go, he would follow and he would be perfectly content with that.

»I’ll like it anywhere as long as you are there too.« 

Jim breathed a small laugh into his hair and for a few more minutes, they allowed silence to settle upon their compartment as they leaned back in their comfortable seat. They didn't need many words anyway as long as they were together. Oswald couldn't deny that his heart was beating faster as the train was slowly leaving the city and headed for one of the many bridges leading to the mainland out of Gotham and into the big wide world. Soon they would have left Gotham and all her enticing lights behind them and with her all the drama, the ridiculous villains and the chaos.

There was only one thing to settle and they both knew it. They couldn't keep this up forever like this. He didn't wish to be involved in anything criminal or evil and Jim, as he was now, did not wish to lead a peaceful apple pie life somewhere in the suburbs in a house with a white picket fence. Wherever this version of Jim would go, he would bring chaos and destruction. Blood in the streets. 

So, Oswald was not surprised as Jim, after a while, pulled a syringe out of the inside pocket of his coat and placed it carefully on the table in the middle of their compartment right in front of Oswald. It was filled with some red liquid of which Oswald could only guess the origins. It was Jim's blood. It was the virus. It was a choice Jim was giving him.

They did not share a look as Oswald too slowly shoved his left hand into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out the syringe he had had on him ever since he had boarded the train. He placed the antidote on the table next to the virus carefully and stole a glance at Jim before he lowered his eyes on the syringes again. 

»Bullock said: If you truly love him, save him.« Oswald murmured into the silence of the compartment. It had happened all very fast as Bullock had grabbed him and before Jim could have even known what was happening, he had already shoved the antidote in the pocket of Oswald’s coat. The lack of surprise on Jim’s face, however, told Oswald that he had known or at least expected something like this. There was a choice hanging in the air and it was a heavy one. 

»You could have injected me when I first came in here. I wouldn't have noticed it.« Jim replied quietly and, as Oswald noticed from the side, his eyes were focused on the syringes on the table. »You could have given the antidote to me when you hugged me and I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it.«

»You could have done the same thing with the virus.« Now he pried his eyes from the virus on the table as he brushed the backs of his fingers over the stubbles of Jim’s firm jaw. »Why didn't you?«

Jim paused for a moment before he grabbed Oswald’s hand and pressed a kiss to it gently. »Lee forced this upon me. It was wrong. I love how I feel now, I love not needing to hide who I truly am inside, but it was wrong of her still and I didn't want to force anything upon you. So why didn't you do it?«

»It would have been wrong.« Oswald smiled and met Jim’s eyes once more. »It's your choice.« 

»And it is yours.« 

Because there was no way they would be able to stay like this and be happy for the rest of their days when their outlooks on the world would be so vastly different. How would he be able to stay with Jim when even the thought about the things he had done in the past twenty-four hours was already causing him physical pain? He would never be able to shake off the treatment he had gone through in Arkham like this. 

Of course, Hugo Strange had only wanted to help him - and he had. He was glad that he was not the old Oswald anymore, that he was free from all the anger and the hatred he had been allowing to rule his life for far too long. Yet, on the other hand, he had never felt as helpless and afraid in his life as he did now ever since he had left Arkham behind. Every day was a struggle for him and though he realized that this was exactly the point in all of this, that being good took effort and strength, he didn't know if this was worth losing Jim eventually. 

All he had ever wanted was to be with him or at least for Jim to see him for who he truly was deep down. He had always known what darkness was lurking inside Jim, just as he had always known that he himself had the potential to be good. 

For a while they just kept to themselves in silence, thinking about what they wanted to do. Because Jim was right, this was not just Oswald’s decision to make but Jim's too. As much as Oswald had to decide whether or not he wanted to become his old self again with a little nudge of the virus, Jim had to decide whether or not he wanted to become his old self again through the antidote and then have to live with what he had done in the past twenty-four hours. 

He couldn't deny that this Jim was frightening to him at times. Deep down inside, Oswald knew that Jim would never harm him - at least not willingly - but he was still scary to Oswald at times. And despite that Jim scared him … he felt drawn towards him even more than he had ever felt before. 

It was almost midnight and the moon stood high in the sky, the snowfall had become even stronger. The train could only move slowly across the bridge and outside of their window, Oswald could see the lights of Gotham glistening on the dark waters of the ocean.

The movement to his right-hand side from Jim was what made him refocus on the syringes on the table. Before Jim's fingers could reach for the antidote, Oswald had already grabbed Jim’s hand tightly with his own.

»When I was at Arkham … the treatment I got … even thinking about the things I did in the past, hurts now. Every night I am tortured by memories of the horrible things I did and how helpless I felt at Arkham. I am tired of being afraid and helpless, Jim.« 

The decision was made swiftly and he did it before Jim could say or do anything about it as he grabbed the syringe with the virus and plunged the needle into his neck at once. 

 

**-End of Chapter 6-**


End file.
